Future Imperfect
by lilachigh2
Summary: Years have passed since the L.A. Apocalypse, years have passed since Buffy wondered about the grandchildren she and Spike would never share.  Life has moved on but the Powers that Be granted Spike a gift - one that changed their lives for ever.
1. Chapter 1

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

Years have passed since Buffy and Spike met up in Italy after the L.A. apocalypse, years since Buffy wondered about her grandchildren they would never share. Their lives have moved on but Spike was given a gift by the Powers That Be that has changed everything. This is now off canon.

Rating: NC17

Chapter One: Grandchildren

There were two of them – a boy of about eight and his twin sister. Blond, bored, staring out of the car windows as the miles sped past. They'd fought and fidgeted, wriggled and argued for hours. The little girl had drawn ugly faces on her arms with her marker pens. Faces with horns and wicked eyes. Faces that should have scared her – and didn't.

The driver, shut away behind his glass partition paid the children no attention. It was his job to deliver them to their destination. The state they were in when they arrived was nothing to do with him. He was just glad they were sitting silently and not making any noise.

"You'll be in trouble when Granny sees that," the boy said. His sister poked out her tongue, then swished her hand over the red and purple marks, wiping them away as if they'd never been.

"You used magic! I'll tell." The boy's words were automatic and his sister paid little attention. She'd already discovered that her brother's words were just that – words. She knew she was tougher than he was. He was a sissy. He liked music and silly poetry and couldn't throw a ball as hard as she could. Although sometimes she wondered….

She magicked her dress pink, then green, then back to red again. Oh she was so bored! This stupid car ride was taking so long. All she would have to do was say a few words and she could get them to Granny and Grandad's before lunchtime. It was so easy. It was all in the old books she'd found hidden away in the basement. She didn't understand why it was forbidden to read them.

'I'll ask Granny,' she thought, her face tight with determination. And then what, the voice said in her head. And for the first time, a little ripple of apprehension ran down her spine.

She could cope with Grandad. She'd known for ever that one flash of her green eyes was enough to get her everything she wanted from him.

Granny was different. Tougher. What she said was law. If she made a rule, you obeyed it. It was Granny whom Mom had phoned when all the bad trouble had happened. When they'd returned from that weird world she'd found where everyone was a shrimp.

Mom had been furious; she'd cried.

"This is getting out of hand. I can't cope any longer. You're going to stay with Granny and Grandad for a while," she'd said. "They can deal with you. No!" she'd held up her hand – "Don't argue. You're going. Save your questions for them. They know far more about things than I do. I can't protect you any more. You've got to learn before you do some real damage." Mom's voice had sounded harsh.

So here they were. She glanced at her twin. He was gazing dreamily out of the window, singing quietly under his breath. He wanted a normal life, wanted to be a normal boy who went to school, played with their dog, took piano lessons, made model aeroplanes out of kits and hung them from his bedroom ceiling. He had eyes as blue as a summer sky and everyone loved him.

No one loved her – except twin, perhaps. Mom and Dad? She locked her arms around her knees and held them tightly against her chest. She doubted it. The look of exasperation on her mother's face was her first lasting memory. She accepted the fact that she was naughty and twin was good. She'd been told that so many times. She was always in trouble, breaking rules she hadn't known existed until she shattered them. She knew she would never be a normal girl. And she didn't want to be. What she wanted were answers to all the questions that swam through her head every night.

Why could she do these strange things so easily? Why was she stronger than the other girls and boys at school? Who were the odd, elderly people who sometimes came to their house at Christmas and Thanksgiving? The thickset, balding man who showed twin how to carve wood into strange shapes? The funny little guy with the guitar who sat and talked to her Mom's godmother all night. The incredibly old Englishman who played chess with her brother and stared at her with piercing eyes that asked a silent question she couldn't answer.

So many 'aunties' and 'uncles' all round the world, talking in riddles via the internet about times and places and things that didn't make sense.

Who was the ugly coloured woman with a painted face who came to her in the night, beckoning?

Why did she and her twin always have to wear a cross around their necks and carry a sharp piece of wood in their pockets? Why did Mom insist their bedroom windows were tightly shut every night as soon as the sun went down?

And, most important of all, why did Mom refuse to allow Granny and Grandad to visit them any more? It was nearly three years now since they'd last stayed. She could only just remember them but one memory was very clear - Granny had cried when she'd climbed into the car to leave.

"They're everything we ever dreamed of, ever wanted," Granny had said, her voice hoarse.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want you near them. I want the twins to grow up to be normal children in a normal world." Her mom's words hadn't made any sense and Grandad's hands had been shaking as he hugged twin and turned away.

They were nearly there. The girl gazed out of the car as they slowed, turned up a rough track and headed towards a long, low house, the yard surrounded by a white picket fence, shaded by tall trees.

Two figures were waiting at the door, shaded by the porch from the midday sun blazing down on the uncovered heads that glinted like silver gilt. Grandad's arm was round Granny's waist and they were smiling in glorious welcome. For the first time in months, Joyce felt the tight band of worry round her head ease a little. Granny would make everything all right again

As Billy jumped out of the car, Joyce slowly unbuckled her seat belt. So many questions raced through her mind, but instinctively she knew that the first thing she had to ask when she got the chance was the most important - why her grandparents had named her Mom, their daughter, Shanshu?

"Are they asleep?" Spike looked up anxiously as Buffy came downstairs. He was sprawled in front of the TV, his feet on the coffee table and she tapped his boots automatically as she joined him on the couch.

"Feet!"

He swung his legs down with a grin and dropped a kiss on the head that fitted comfortably under his chin. He'd hated it when three years earlier she'd cut her hair. He'd loved the long gold and amber that he could wrap round his face, tangle in his fingers while they made love. But he'd known why, of course.

They'd just got home from Shanny's, tired and upset. "I'm over forty years old," she'd said bleakly that morning, holding the scissors to her neck in front of the mirror. "Over forty with a daughter who doesn't want anything to do with me and two grandkids whom I'll never know. I think it's time I grew up!"

And the scissors had flashed, the hair had dropped to be swept away – all except for one long lock that even now he carried wrapped in silk in his back pocket. Now he was used to the rough textured blonde crop and had to admit it suited her face. Strangely, he thought it made her look younger.

"So, are they asleep?" He still couldn't believe that Joyce and Billy were upstairs in their house. It was like some bloody weird dream and he was terrified he'd wake up at any second.

"Well, Billy is. As soon as his head hit the pillow. Madam Joyce is sitting up in bed, making her toys dance around the room. But she looks bored, so by now she's probably conjured up some hell demon toys to play with!"

"Should I – ?"

"No, Spike. Do not go upstairs! You're hopeless with her. She'll have you dancing round the room as well, if you're not careful. You know you can't say no to her."

"She looks so much like I imagine you did when you were eight," Spike grumbled in apology. He knew his granddaughter had him wrapped round her little finger. But he couldn't help it. The first time he'd seen her, she'd opened those big green eyes and stared right at him. Oh, they told him a baby's eyes didn't focus that early and to her he was just a blur. But, bloody hell, he knew different. Joyce had seen him, smiled and put him on the top of her slave list for life.

Buffy sighed, wriggled free of his arms and turned off the television. Spike got up and poured himself a scotch. She watched, smiling slightly. She would never tire of gazing at the lithe muscled length of him. There wasn't even a touch of grey in the blond hair that curled a little looser on his head than it had all those years ago.

Twenty-five years they'd been together now and their love was just as strong as it had always been. And they showed it – oh god how they showed it.

She grinned and he raised an eyebrow in query.

"I've just realised we're going to have to be a little bit, well, quieter than usual in our room, sweetheart. Four little ears will hear everything."

"Not my fault if you scream a lot, Slayer," he said. "But we could always try a gag. That'd be fun!"

"Ssshh!" Buffy looked up instinctively at the ceiling. She didn't trust Joyce not to be listening. Well, she didn't trust Joyce full stop. "We must act sensibly in front of them."

"Look, pet, we've just got to be ourselves. We can't be anything else. Shanny's sent the twins here so we can help them. If we start trying to be what we're not, they'll see straight through us and not believe a word we say."

Buffy bit her lip and sat down again on the couch, tucking her feet under her. Spike put down his glass and stood behind her, his fingers massaging the hard muscles that ran down from her neck into her shoulders.

"We made so many mistakes with Shanny," Buffy whispered. "She broke our hearts, you know she did. How can we be sure we won't make the same mistakes with the twins?"

"We did our best with Shanny, luv," Spike said slowly. "Let's face it, having a miracle baby in the middle of an soddin' apocalypse isn't the easiest thing to cope with."

His mind flashed back to that incredible time – he'd died in Sunnydale, then, somehow the Poofters that Be who seemed to think they could do just what they liked with people's lives, had brought him back. And given him half of the Shanshu prophesy as a reward.

He was still a vampire, still had a soul, but, they'd told him, there was a small part of him that was now human – he would age as a human being. His reward for saving the world by dying was that he would eventually die!

He could still remember the mixed emotions that had torn through him. Disgust at having been brought back at all, then joy that he could go to Buffy and face a future with her when they would grow old together. He chuckled now and slid over the back of the couch to lay full length, his head pillowed on her lap.

"What's funny?"

"Remembering the look on your face when you opened the door in Italy, pet. My nose still aches where you punched me!"

"I should have aimed lower if I'd had any sense."

"You mean my teeth?"

"Lower still, vamp boy!"

"Ouch! Then there wouldn't have been any Shanny."

They lay in silence. For that was the other part of the Shanshu prophecy, the part the PTBs had forgotten to tell them about. Vamp with a soul, living a human life span and oh, you didn't take precautions? Oh dear, that was the other part of our gift - you see, you can now father a child…

...

…somewhere overhead the denizens of hell were waging war on earth. Deep in the Roman catacombs, the Slayer was giving birth in the pitch dark, the gloom broken only by a few candles and oil lights. All around her lay the skulls and skeletons of much earlier massacres.

Spike was defending the entrance tunnel to where Buffy lay. The first wave of demons had been beaten back; surprised at the ferocity of the welcome they'd received.

"My sword arm aches." Andrew moaned. He was massaging his wrist and trying to ignore the purple blood that was dripping all over his new, white, Italian cut jeans.

Spike leant against the wall, trying to listen for the next attack and not think about Buffy, lying on a bundle of old clothes, wracked with labour pains. He glanced across at Andrew and felt a reluctant twinge of admiration. He was such an unlikely warrior. Who else would have put on the latest fashion gear to die in? And his sword skills were nil, zero, bloody non-existent. But that was how he survived. Some of the demons were so puzzled by the response to their attack that they dropped their guard and Andrew dispatched them, almost by mistake.

"Do you think she'll be much longer?" Andrew asked. "It's been ages since she started and we can't put Plan B into action until she's finished."

Spike glared at him. "My girl is giving birth to my child. She can take as long as she bloody well likes!"

Andrew shrugged and examined his fingernails closely. "I was just saying she's taking a long time, that's all. You know Mr Giles wants to flood these tunnels with water from the Tiber. He can't do that until – "

A fanged face swooped in front of his, "What part of "as long as she bloody well likes" don't you understand?"

"OK, OK," Andrew shrank back against the stone tunnel wall. Jeez, Spike was so scratchy since Buffy had got herself pregnant! Not nearly as cool as he used to be. He sighed. He wished they could get out of here and back into daylight. He wished his new jeans weren't ruined. He wished his sword wasn't so heavy. He didn't really understand the Shanshu thingy. He'd overheard some of the others talking, wondering if Angel had been given anything. He'd apparently defeated some huge evil as well.

Spike suddenly turned, his nerves jangling. He'd heard his girl screaming, not just with his ears, but with his mind and his heart. "Stay here! Don't let anything pass. I'll be back," he snarled at Andrew and raced away up the tunnel.

The shelves of skulls led him to a dark little room, filled with the overpower scent of blood and sweat. Dawn was standing in the doorway, wiping sweat off her face with a towel. He could hear Buffy moaning inside and thought he was going to die. "What's happening, Dawnie?" He went to go past her, but she reached out to stop him.

"Spike, she's hanging in there. We'll manage. You haven't left Andrew by himself, surely? We need another ten minutes or so. We can't move her now. You've got to stop them. The best you can do for her is give her time, Spike."

He stared into Lil Bit's honest eyes and it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done – turning and going back into battle, leaving Buffy with her own fight, one he couldn't help her with….

...

…"She arrived at a bad time," he said, twenty-four years later. "Bloody hell, Buffy, I don't even remember looking at her for two or three days. She was just a tiny bundle Dawn was carrying while we fought our way out of Rome."

Buffy shuddered. Some nights in her dreams she was back in the catacombs, in the foul dark, exhausted from giving birth, full of an unbearable happiness that she'd had Spike's daughter, and unable to think or feel for her. Quite incapable of feeding her, but knowing that Dawn had somehow got a supply of formula and whoever was the least tired of the group at any one time would be giving the baby a bottle.

Within an hour Buffy had been forced back on her feet, fighting every inch of the way until Giles and Robin had managed to blow up something and flood the waters of the Tiber into the underground system, sweeping away monsters and demons alike.

But that had been just one victory. For four years they'd fought the evil that had taken over Europe, driving it into the sea, killing, slaughtering, taking back the countries, one by one. And all the time, a little girl with tangled brown hair and frightened brown eyes had travelled with them. Kept away from the discussions about death and destruction, hidden away during the fighting, but Buffy had often wondered how much she'd seen, how much she'd understood.

"We were so selfish, Spike. Perhaps we should have given her to Dawn to raise back in the States," she said, looking down to where the vampire was lying with his head on her thighs, running her hand over the smooth black T-shirt that covered a chest as muscled as it had been all those years ago.

Spike reached up and caught her fingers in his. "She was our daughter, pet. Our little miracle. our Shanshu. We loved her then and we love her now. "

"Mommy says you never really loved her, Granny Buffy!"

Spike swore violently as he and Buffy sprang apart and turned to see their granddaughter, Joyce, in the doorway, staring at them with angry, defiant green eyes.

Buffy sighed. She knew that lots of little children came downstairs in the middle of the night when they were staying in a strange house. And probably lots asked awkward questions about their parents – but how many did so when they were floating two feet off the ground!

tbc


	2. Chapter 2  The Biggest Bad

**Future Imperfec**t by **Lilachigh**

**The story so far: **Many years have passed since Buffy wondered about what her grandchildren would be like. Now she is faced with eight year old twins, Joyce and Billy, sent by Shanny, their mother so that their grandparents, Buffy and Spike, can warn them about the dangers that could confront them. Spike, given part of the Shanshu prophecy after the Apocalypse, is still a vampire but aging, like a human. He also was able to father their miracle daughter, Shanny. But when the twins were five, Shanny stopped Buffy and Spike having any contact with them. She was determined they would grow up normal children. Sadly, as Joyce is an extremely powerful little witch, her hopes have been dashed!

Chp 2 The Biggest Bad

Buffy stared at her granddaughter hovering in the doorway – her pyjamas were bright with pictures of the latest TV comic star – some sort of bear with wings - but they were too small and too young for her. Her feet and ankles looked white and thin poking out from the bottom of the legs and Buffy suddenly grinned as she realised that those feet were exactly the same shape and colour as Spike's!

"Joyce, walk properly," she said. "You're not a humming-bird. You don't have to hover. You should be in bed asleep."

Joyce drifted to the floor then ran over and clambered into Spike's lap. He rubbed his chin across her tangled blonde hair as she snuggled against his chest.

"And what's all this rubbish about us not loving your mother," Buffy went on.

"It's what Mom says," Joyce muttered defiantly.

"Well, that's something we'll have to sort out with her," Buffy replied. "She's completely wrong and I expect you misunderstood her. But what's important now is you and Billy."

"Is this the right time to start in with the explanations, pet?" Spike said softly. "They've only just arrived. They probably don't even remember us very well or know why they're here."

"Yes we do," Joyce said, sitting up straighter. "We've been sent away from home because I'm bad."

"What!" Buffy and Spike spoke at the same time.

Joyce shrugged, slid off Spike's lap and stood in front of them, "I'm bad, and Dad says I'm the biggest bad he's ever known and he's known a lot."

"That's true," Spike muttered under his breath.

Buffy's lips twitched. Joyce was leaning against the table, her head tilted to one side, eight years old and with an attitude that brought memories flooding back. There was nothing to remind Buffy of the little girl's parents; everything in her cocky, pugnacious approach to life was inherited from Spike.

She took a deep breath. "Joyce, sweetheart, you and Billy haven't been sent away from home because you're bad – "

"Not Twin," Joyce interrupted anxiously. "Don't be cross with him. Billy's not bad. But he had to come because we go everywhere together. Mom said he could stay at home, but he just got in the car when it was time to go."

"Your Mom and Dad know you have – well, problems. They thought Granddad and me would be the best people to talk to you about them, that's all. No one thinks you're bad."

Joyce didn't look convinced. She flicked her finger against her thumb and made a little scarlet mouse with emerald spots run across the floor. She watched her grandparents out of the corner of her eye, but to her surprise, neither of them flinched or looked surprised. She flicked her finger again and a much larger mouse appeared.

"Joyce – before you get to the rats and leopard stage, do you want to know about what you're doing," Buffy asked briskly.

"It's a very bad habit, very silly and dangerous," the little girl said, repeating something that had obviously been said to her many times. "Mom says I mustn't do it. Auntie Willow gets all upset."

"Do you see a lot of Auntie Willow?"

Joyce nodded. "When we were little she was round at our house visiting Mom all the time, then she went to live abroad for a while after I took her to a funny place where everyone had green faces and lots of lots of arms. She didn't like that at all. I thought it was cool."

Buffy glanced at Spike in despair. Poor Willow – she had been so thrilled when Shanny was born, so delighted to be her god-mother…even though, as she'd often said, being Jewish excluded her from the actual Christening….

….

…"Buffy, she's perfect! Adorable. Aren't you, Shanny, aren't you adorable?" Willow tickled the little girl and made cooing noises at her.

Buffy prowled across to the window and stared out at the dusky grey sky. Pinpoints of emerald and scarlet showed where the house was surrounded by some of the demon army who'd been tracking them across Europe.

She threw a glance back at Willow and smiled. It had been a very long time since she'd seen her friend looking this happy. After Kennedy had died in the first weeks of the European Demon War, the witch had retreated into herself. She used whatever magic she could to help the cause, but so many of the demons they were fighting seemed untouched by her brand of witchcraft.

"We think she's adorable, and she'd been even more gorgeous if she didn't cry at all the wrong times," Buffy said with a sigh. "It's difficult to creep up on a monster in a stealthy fashion when Shanny starts wailing for her next meal. But she's learning. She's much quieter than she used to be."

Willow finished changing the baby, dressed her in the jeans and sweat shirt she always wore and tucked her into the travelling backpack that Spike had made. Dawn usually wore this to carry Shanny, but Dawn had gone back to London with Giles to plan a second front so Willow had been promoted to Shanny carrier.

"You didn't think of sending her to England with Dawn?"

Buffy turned back to the window. Spike was somewhere out there in the Roman night, trying to discover what plans the demons had and she was getting nervous because he'd been gone a long time now with no word.

"No, we want her with us. Oh, I know Dawn and Giles would protect her with their lives, but she's our daughter, Will. We love her so much and she belongs with us."

Willow frowned and ran her fingers through her short ragged red hair. When Kennedy had died, she'd cut it to about an inch all over. She didn't want to look pretty any more, or even attractive. Tara, Kennedy, everyone who loved her died. There would be no one else.

"She's almost two now, isn't she? Seeing things, hearing things. They must make an impression on her mind. Buffy, I don't know anything about babies, but is it right to have her here, in the middle of the fighting and killing?"

Buffy shrugged and checked the street once more. Where was Spike? Every second he was out of her sight was a nightmare for her. Since they'd found each other again, since he'd been given half of the Shansu prophecy by the PTBs – that although he would remain a vampire he would age like a human being and be able to father a child – Buffy had had the feeling that this marvellous gift could be taken away just as easily as it had been given.

"Come on Will, Shanny's the daughter of a Slayer and a vampire. She's going to see a lot of weird things in her life. Not much point in pretending the opposite, is there?"

Willow gently pushed the brown curls away from the toddler's eyes. Shanny needed to have her hair cut, or at least tied back with a ribbon. Two big brown eyes gazed up at her. Willow sighed. She adored the little girl, but worried about her constantly. She was so quiet. You would find her playing quietly by herself in a corner of the room while her parents discussed battle tactics.

Willow glanced across at Buffy, saw her face change from strained and concerned to joyful and guessed that meant Spike was nearby.

The door was thrust open and the vampire stalked in, leather coat swinging. Shanny's gaze swung round to watch as her mother and father flung their arms around each other and kissed. For a long minute they had eyes for no one but each other, then Spike said, "And how's my other best girl?" and bent down to kiss and hug his daughter.

Buffy watched, smiling, as Spike picked up their daughter and danced round the room with her. Was Will right? Should she have sent Shanny back to England with Dawn? But surely the best place for a child was with her parents. Life couldn't go on being so difficult. The demon army would be beaten eventually and then she and Spike could settle down together and bring up their daughter properly in a world where monsters and hell things no longer existed….

But Willow's memory had gone flashing back to her own childhood and parents who adored each other. She knew in her head that they loved her, but had never really been able to dissuade herself that she was somehow very much in the way.

She sighed. Well, Shansu would always have her Auntie Willow in her life. She would never let her down. Ever…

…..

…"Mom told Auntie Willow it was up to her to teach me self control when we came back from the green-face world. Then they had a big row, because Auntie Willow said it was impossible," Joyce said now. "So she went away. And Mom cried because I'm so bad Auntie Willow didn't want to stay."

Spike tried not to smile. He knew Buffy would bloody well slay him if he made a joke of all this. But he could see the funny side, that was the trouble. Shanny, his darling Shanny, had broken his heart as well as her mother's, but this child had stolen it away and refused to give it back.

He could just picture Red sounding indignant and mortified that she couldn't teach the little girl how to control herself. For Joyce was trespassing on the witch's territory. He supposed it would be a bit like Andrew besting him in a fist fight. He'd never get over it. Never live it down. No wonder Willow had gone to Europe.

He remembered what she had said to Buffy when she'd paid a flying visit to them before she left.

"Joyce scares me, Buffy. She's eight years old and has more power now than I've ever had. I don't know where it comes from and I don't know what to say to her. She's way beyond me and she scares me silly. And she terrifies her parents. Shanny thinks it's all my fault, that I've taught her – "

There was a catch in her voice. She loved Shanny so much, she was the daughter she'd never had. Her anger was more than Willow could bear.

"But I haven't. I've never said a word to her. The only spell Joyce has ever seen was when I made her teddy-bear dance in her crib and she was doing that herself two days later and she couldn't even talk! I'm going to Europe to see Giles. He might have some ideas. I'm all out."

Now as Spike watched, Buffy pulled Joyce towards her, placing her between her knees and holding her shoulders firmly. "Listen, sweetheart. What you can do isn't wrong – not like telling a lie or stealing is wrong. It's called witchcraft and usually you learn to do it when you're way older than you are. Auntie Willow was about sixteen or seventeen when she started."

Joyce rolled her eyes and Spike choked behind his hand as Buffy's indignant expression crossed his granddaughter's face. "Jeez, Gran, I know I'm a witch," she said with the ill-concealed impatience of the young talking to the very brain dead old.

"Oh, how do you know?"

Spike heard a soft sound on the stairs and whirled round. Blue eyes met sapphire, the blond curls were identical, but the hard, flat planes of the older face were softened to chubby cheeks in the boy who stood there in the doorway. A warm, charming smile curved full lips.

"I told her, of course," Billy said and for the first time, a shiver of nerves ran down Spike's back.

'You OK?' the thought flashed into Joyce's head and she replied in the same silent way.

'Yes.' She and Billy often spoke like this to each other, without words. They'd done it when they were babies and couldn't speak properly and now it was just second nature. But they'd both learnt to conceal this ability from grown-ups. Their mom and dad had got very upset when they guessed what they were doing. Joyce knew their parents now thought the twins had 'grown out of it', as if getting taller made any difference to what she and twin did.

"Billy – " Buffy held out her hand and her grandson wriggled onto her knee, hitching up his pants which were in danger of sliding down over skinny hipbones. "How did you know Joyce was a witch, sweetheart?'

Billy smiled up into the hazel-green eyes above his head, his own clear and innocent. "I don't know, Grandma. Seemed kinda obvious, I suppose. She could do all these really neat tricks and there were books in the basement that explained a lot of things. So I told Twin what she was to stop her getting upset because she thought she was being bad.'

Buffy flashed Spike a quick glance. The vampire's rapport with his grandson had never been has absolute as that with Joyce. She knew the reasons. The little boy might look like Spike, but he'd inherited very little of the vampire's character. He seemed a sunny, sweet-natured child who could charm the birds off the trees if he chose.

Now Spike was staring at Billy, a frown on his face. "Can you do magic, too?"

Billy shrugged. "It's boring. All Twin does is snap her fingers and anything she wants appears. It gets us in all sorts of trouble. We had to hide the lion cubs in my room until she could send them back to Africa. No, I like making things. You should see my model aeroplanes, Granddad! I've done them all from kits. They're cool." He tactfully didn't add that quite often when the house was empty, Joyce would make the planes whirl round his room, the little propellers spinning, the jet engines roaring.

"Billy's a poophead," Joyce said scornfully. "All he wants to do is hang out with the boys at school and play baseball. Him and Dad are always playing catch in the yard. That's boring!"

"T'isn't!"

"T'is!'

Buffy let Billy slide off her lap and stood up. "Ok, kids, bed time. It's too late to talk about this any more tonight. Tomorrow, Granddad and I will explain a lot of things that you need to know."

'They want to talk about us,' Billy said inside Joyce's head as they clambered up the stairs to their room.

'Guess so. They're old; they don't think quickly like we do.'

'Did you tell them about the weird lady with the painted face?'

'No. They wouldn't understand.' Joyce crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She wasn't scared, but she hoped the strange woman wouldn't find her here at Granny's house. It was a long way from home. Perhaps the magic wouldn't reach this far.

Downstairs, Buffy reached out her hand and Spike flung himself down on the sofa next to her. "Bloody hell, pet, what the heck's going on with those two?"

Buffy groaned. "They were communicating without talking. I could sense it. I did that once with Xander and Willow. I thought it was a Slayer thing, but Joyce isn't a Slayer. I would know if she was."

Spike wrapped his arm round her thin shoulders and hugged her. "Well, sweetheart, I've got no idea what Billy is, but he isn't a Slayer, either!"

"He looks just like you."

"So, he's cursed with the family good looks. Still doesn't make him a Slayer."

"Maybe he's just a normal little boy."

Her beloved vampire pulled a face, got up and wandered out into the kitchen to heat some blood in the microwave. He'd refrained from eating in front of the twins so far, but knew he couldn't hide what he was from them for long. Tomorrow would be a difficult day. How would they react when they were told he was a vampire?

Spike swallowed a mouthful of gore. How exactly did you tell two eight-year-olds that their grandfather was a vampire? Was Buffy going to explain about the Shansu prophecy and what it meant to them all? How the hell could they understand when he didn't really get all the implications himself?

Buffy had followed him into the kitchen. Gently, she touched his shoulder as he stood gazing out into the dark, wind-filled yard. "You're worrying about telling them, aren't you?" she said. "You're not that bothered about Joyce's powers or what Billy might be, are you? It's more than that."

Spike shrugged. "We all know Joyce is a witch. What did Red call her? - 'the most powerful witch she'd ever met' and she hasn't even started developing her abilities yet. If that's even half true, then I reckon she'll cope with whatever we throw at her about witchcraft and Slayers. But vampires – "

He tossed the empty blood packet into the bin and restlessly opened the back door and strode out into the moonlit yard, desperate for the feel of the cool night air.

"Spike – "

He whirled round. "Don't you see, pet? Shanny has them carrying stakes in their pockets and they both wear crosses round their necks. They don't know what they're for yet, but tomorrow you're going to tell them. And the first thing they need to know is that their grandfather used to be one of the evil undead and that it's only a poxy prophecy that's stopping them or anyone else from being able to turn me to dust if they had the chance."

Buffy cupped his face between her hands and ran her thumbs over his cheekbones, tracing the line of his mouth, easing the frown line between his eyebrows.

"I know it's going to be difficult," she said softly. "But they're not stupid kids: they sense something is different about our family. I think they'll be happier when they know. Children don't like secrets. I remember when Dad left, Mom didn't tell me for ages. It was all, "oh he's away on work' and 'he'll be home next week'. I knew it wasn't the truth and not knowing was even worse than when they eventually told me they'd separated."

Spike kissed her palm as it slid over his mouth. God, his girl was still so sexy. All these years and she could still make his body sing with joy and anticipation.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. I'll let you do all the talking tomorrow. Your speeches are much better than mine. It's a pity in some ways that we never had to tell Shanny. We'd have a better idea of just what to say to the twins. But she just grew up, watching and learning. Do you know, pet, I don't even know when she saw her first vampire staked….."

…

….. The graveyard was cold. Shanny Summers shivered as she sat under a bush. She was six years old. Birthday Girl said the sticker on her T-shirt. She hugged the stuffed pig that Mommy had given her. He was cute. But she wouldn't give him a name because her toys often got lost or left behind when they had to move fast. It wasn't so sad if they didn't have names.

There'd been a party earlier. No kids came. She didn't know any.

She shivered again. She'd forgotten her jacket and Mommy would be cross. You had to 'always be prepared', but Shanny wasn't sure 'xactly what those words meant.

There'd been cake and ice-cream. Lots of people had patted her head and said how much she'd grown and then stood in groups talking to each other about 'the battle' and 'the second front' and 'the big board'.

Uncle Andrew had played dolls with her for a while, but then, just before she got to blow out the candles on her cake, someone had rushed in, shouting, and he'd had to go on a 'patrol' with Mommy and Daddy.

She was supposed to have gone to bed but it was her birthday and she wanted Mommy and Daddy to watch her blow out the candles! So in all the confusion, she'd slipped out of the room and followed them. But she'd forgotten her jacket and Mommy would yell.

She knew she had to be quiet. She was always a good girl and quiet because if you weren't the monsters came and ate you all up.

Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Andrew and another big man had come into this graveyard. Mommy and Daddy were there, a little way away, but they didn't know she was under this bush. And even as she watched, the ground in front of her heaved, the earth breaking away in great lumps. She shrank back, wanting to yell for Mommy, but remembering that you must never scream.

A big thing came clambering out of the ground and then another. Their faces were all lumpy and bumpy and they'd seen her and their mouths with great sharp teeth were coming towards her and Mommy and Daddy came running - Daddy's face was all lumpy, too - they were kicking and punching and she was holding dear pig so tight it's head tore away from its body as Shanny Summers, six years old, watched her parents thrust wooden stakes into the monsters' chests and their dust drifted down through the leaves and settled over her where she stayed, not screaming, still hidden from view, knowing now that wherever she went, the monsters would always find her…

…

…."I think she was about ten," Buffy said, frowning. "Killing vamps never seemed to bother her, did it? She'd heard all about Slayers and the Prophecy and Hellmouths by then. I just think it's a shame she hasn't told Joyce and Billy."

"We'll do it tomorrow, love. We'll find a way to make them understand and not be scared." Spike wrapped his arms round her and they stood, gazing up at the moon as it sailed between the clouds. And upstairs, a little girl twitched and turned in her sleep as a dark woman with a painted face appeared again and beckoned with a bony finger for her to follow….

To be continued

Author's Note: Do let me know if you are enjoying this new story.


	3. Chapter 3   Explanations

**Future Imperfect** by **Lilachigh**

**The story so far: **The grandchildren that Buffy and Spike once dreamt of are not quite the perfect ones they had in mind! Their daughter Shanny, born from a miracle granted by the Powers that Be after the L.A. Apocalypse, was an ordinary little girl, but her twins, Joyce and Billy who are now 8 years old, are anything but ordinary. Well, Joyce is the problem. She is a witch - Willow called her "the most powerful witch she had ever known". Shanny had prevented her parents from being involved in the twins' life for three years but now with Joyce out of control, she has sent them to stay with their grandparents, to learn who and what they are.

Chp 3 Explanations

"So are we vampires, too?" Joyce was perched on the edge of the sofa, staring at Buffy. The Slayer had just finished her talk to the twins. She'd been brisk and factual, relating the background of the Summers family, how she and Grandad had met and how the Shanshu prophecy had changed so many lives in so many ways. Joyce had stopped listening halfway through. Sometimes Granny could go on and on with her explanations.

"No, of course we're not, stupid!" Billy broke in. He was sitting on the swivel chair by the desk, annoying Buffy by spinning round and round as he spoke. "Grandad's a vampire, Granny's something called a Slayer and – "

"Sit still, Billy!" Buffy broke in.

"And Auntie Dawn used to be a ball of energy."

"Green energy," Spike put in helpfully from where he was leaning against the wall, watching their faces as they took in the information.

"Well, you needn't worry about Auntie Dawn at the moment," Buffy said hastily, glaring at her lover. "Yes, Grandad's still a vampire, but not the usual nasty sort. He saved the world – twice – so some very important, powerful beings gave him a share in an enormous gift which is a bit complicated so I won't explain it until you're both older. But he's a good vampire."

"It would be cool to be green energy!" Joyce said, concentrating on what she considered most important.

Spike's nerve endings tingled. His granddaughter had Buffy's determined look on her small face. He could almost see her brain working as she considered how she too could turn herself into nothing. "No, it would be extremely silly and – dangerous," he said crisply. "So we'll have none of that, Missy, or you'll be grounded for weeks."

Joyce pouted and glared at him. For a second she wondered what Granny would say if Grandad started hopping round the room on one leg singing a naughty song Billy had taught her, but then decided that it was a bit too soon to show people that particular talent she'd discovered she had.

'How can they ground us?' Billy asked inside her head. 'You'll just transport us wherever we want to go.'

'They don't know that yet.'

'How can they not know? Jeez!'

"So, what your Mom and Dad want you to know is how different our family is to other ones. Not better, just different. Vampires and demons do exist, sadly, and you will learn, in time, how to kill them. Yes, it's a scary thought but you'll have me and Grandad to show you how. Just like your Mommy did…"

"Was she scared?" Billy asked, fingering the cross that hung on a leather cord round his slender neck.

"Mommy? No, never. She was a brave little girl…"

…..

…Shanny Summers stared out of the window into the dark night. She breathed on the glass and drew a smiley face in the mist. She had no idea what country they were in. She thought it might be France, but it could be Holland. She did know that it was her birthday. She was thirteen today.

She'd had presents: small things that you could easily carry in your pockets or backpack. Nothing large or bulky, of course, because when you were part of a demon fighting family, you had to be prepared to move fast and you couldn't do that if you were burdened by possessions.

Shanny sighed. She'd so wanted a puppy for her birthday. She'd seen one in a pet shop the other day when she was out with Uncle Andrew. They'd stopped and peered at the little white and brown bundles, tumbling over each other as they played.

"Oh, look! Aren't they cute? Do you think I could ask for one for my birthday?" she'd said but knew, without even looking that he was shaking his head and what the expression on his face would be. The funny look she called the "poor little Shanny" look. Lots of people she met pulled that face. The only ones who never did were Mom and Dad. But they were the ones who would say no to the puppy. So there was no point in asking.

Outside in the garden of the house they were living in now she could see Mom and Dad walking, their arms round each other's waists, heads close together. She knew what they were talking about so urgently – her.

She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. She hadn't meant to be rude. She couldn't even remember the last time Mom had raised her voice to her. But she didn't want to learn to kill demons and vampires! She wanted to stay as far away from them as possible. They terrified her. She couldn't remember a night when she hadn't lain awake, wondering if one was under the bed, just waiting to crawl out and eat her.

The argument had been made worse because Mom and Dad thought she'd be pleased that they were going to teach her to kill something now she was a teenager. They'd looked genuinely puzzled when she'd said no, she hated demons and didn't want to go anywhere near one - ever!

"But Shanny, you have to learn to defend yourself," Dad had said. "Your Mum and me won't be around all the time to look after you. Now you're getting bigger, pet, you'll be out on your own sometimes, visiting friends – "

And that was when she'd been rude. "What friends?" she'd shouted. "I haven't got any friends. I've been to six different schools, Dad. In six different countries. I can say "My Mom's a vampire Slayer and my Dad's a vampire in six different languages, but, hey, it doesn't matter because I can't say that to anyone - they mustn't know who we are. And that's why I haven't got any friends."

"Shanny! There's no need to talk to your father like that." Her mom had stared at her, green eyes angry and appalled and she'd known it was because her dad was looking desperately hurt.

"Sorry. Sorry! But you can't make me kill things if I don't want to." And she'd flung herself out of the kitchen, up to the bedroom she shared with two other young girls who were Slayers like her Mom and were thrilled to be learning how to kill vampires now they'd turned thirteen.

And now Mom and Dad were walking round the garden, deep in heated discussion, and she knew the subject of the talk was "What do we do about Shanny?".

She turned from the window and threw herself on her bed. She hated them! Hated this life they made her live. Hated the fact that they enjoyed it, liked the killing, the fighting, and the endless battles to clear Europe of evil.

"They don't care about me at all," she muttered into her pillow. "All they care about is each other and the rotten mission. I bet they wish they'd never had me. I'm just a burden, a nuisance. I hate them." But she knew deep down as she lay there, waiting for them to come and tell her what they'd decided, that what she hated most was that her parents weren't scared of anything and she was scared of everything….

….

…"I'm not frightened of anything," Joyce said softly to Buffy. 'I'd like to see a demon here, rather than just in the funny places Billy and me go to. It would be neat."

Buffy groaned. "No, it wouldn't Joyce. You and Billy are too young to fight demons yet. Grandad and me just want you to know what you might have to do one day. And I want you to promise me that you won't 'go' to any of those other places again. It could be very dangerous. What if you couldn't get back?"

Joyce sighed. She was getting bored. Why on earth shouldn't she be able to get back? Why were old people so bothered about being safe? As if she'd let anything happen to Billy. And she never went anywhere without him. She didn't think she could go without him. That was funny! She'd never thought of that before.

Spike caught Buffy's glance and nodded briefly. They'd done enough for one session. The twins needed to absorb the knowledge they'd been given before learning how to deal with it. "OK, kids. Outside and play," he said. "And don't go too far from the house. We'll be eating dinner soon."

He stood back from the door as they raced off, yelling, pushing and shoving like any brother and sister. Buffy shut the door against the sun. "How did I do?"

"You were great, pet." He wrapped his arms round her slender shoulders and gave her a hug. "Inspirational, Slayer."

"I sucked!" she muttered, her face buried against his chest. "God, Spike, it was easier making speeches to the Potentials about fighting the First. Joyce just looks at me with that cocky, "I know it all," attitude and I want to shake her. I get it that she has powers, but she's still only eight years old! She hasn't got eyes in the back of her head but hey, some demons do and they could grab her while she was thinking of a spell and she'd be gone."

Spike wandered into the kitchen and pulled a bag of blood from the fridge. This was going to be lesson number two for the twins – watching him drink his dinner. But maybe they'd leave that until tomorrow. "They didn't totally freak out about me being a vampire, luv," he said. "Or were they just hiding it?" He tried to sound casual but Buffy looked up sharply, her ears attuned to every inflection in his voice.

"Kids accept a lot quite easily at that age," she said. "Magic is such a big part of Joyce's life – I think the vampire revelation came as just one more thing to think about."

Spike stood at the specially tinted window, looking out into the yard. The twins were sitting, side-by-side on the porch swing, not speaking, just sitting, swinging gently, their feet scuffing along the ground. "They're doing that talking without speaking again," he said quietly. "I suppose that's one of the things that upsets Shanny so much. "

Buffy sighed. "Everything upsets Shanny," she said with a touch of irritation in her voice. "Anyone would think she had no experience of magic. Jeez, Spike, she's our daughter. Why did she ever think she could keep the twins away from our world? Billy, perhaps, but she must have seen what was in Joyce right from the start. I mean, I know we weren't probably the most observant parents ever, but even we could see that Shanny had no powers, that she was just a nice, normal child who deserved a nice normal life….

….

….."So you're sending me away." Shanny was sitting cross-legged on her bed, staring up at her parents. She'd guessed they'd have a plan, but she'd never dreamed they'd get rid of her completely.

"No, well, yes, we're sending you to America," her mom was saying. "We've been selfish, wanting to keep you with us, but you're right, Shanny, you need a normal life with a home in one place and a good school and friends. There are lots of States at home which are practically demon free now. You'll be quite safe."

"Will I come back for holidays?" Shanny whispered, her face blank. She'd had years of keeping her emotions under control. Never cry, never whimper, never make a sound in case the demons found you. All that training was coming in handy now.

"Well, yes, of course you will," her dad said. He sat on the bed next to her and took her hand. "Bloody hell, Shanny, we don't want you to go but your mum's right, you need to lead a different life to ours."

Shanny felt him squeeze her hand but she didn't respond. She let her fingers lie against his cold palm until he let them go. "When do I leave?" she asked idly, staring out of the window and missing the look of despair and anguish that crossed her parents faces….

…..

….Spike poked moodily at a saucepan full of chilli that was cooking on the stove. In all the years they'd been together, he could never get Buffy to make it strong enough. "So you think Billy is a normal little boy?"

"Well, he certainly can't do magic. Apart from the telepathy thingy – which lots of twins have, not just witchy ones – he seems normal to me."

Spike licked the spoon, ignoring her glare of disgust. "Buffy, sweetheart, believe me, that little boy is far more dangerous than Joyce. And I haven't got a single idea how to deal with him."

To be continued

Author's note: Not too many people seem to be reading this one. Do hope that those of you who are enjoy it.


	4. Chapter 4 Instinct

**Future Imperfect** by **Lilachigh**

**The story so far: **The grandchildren that Buffy once wondered about are now here - 8 years old and trouble. Joyce, the most powerful witch Willow has ever known and Billy, who seems a normal little boy, but is he? Shanny, the twins' mother, was born to Buffy and Spike because he was given half the Shanshu prophecy after the L.A. apocalypse. He is still a vampire, but aging as a human and able to father a child. But Shanny had a difficult upbringing, born in the middle of the European Demon Wars and eventally, at 13, sent to America to live with Willow's parents. Shanny never forgave her parents and refused to let them have anything to do with the twins. But now she knows Joyce is out of control and needs to know everything about her background.

Chp. 4 Instinct

Buffy stared out of the window at her grandson. Billy and Joyce were still sitting on the swing, which was moving quite fast without them seeming to do a thing to help it along.

"Why do you think he's so dangerous?" she asked, bewildered. "Shanny says he's the only one who can keep Joyce under control most of the time. That's why she sent him up here to us with his sister. She said on the phone that Billy calms his twin down when she gets worked up. That's a good thing, surely?"

Spike was absentmindedly eating chilli straight out of the saucepan. He cast a glance at his wife. Even after all these years, she still looked beautiful to him. She was forty-seven but the short jagged hair that curved round her face was still blonde with just a touch of gilt in it. The amazing miracle that was his share of the Shanshu prophecy could still catch him unawares sometimes. They would grow old together – and if she died first, then he would just walk outside and let the sun take him, minutes later.

"That's weird in itself, pet. Think about it – Shanny has always wanted to be a normal girl, living a normal life. She's been quite determined that we had nothing to do with the twins – in case we contaminated them in some way, I suppose – No listen!" He held up a hand as Buffy went to speak – "Being normal has always been Shanny's overwhelming desire in life. I know that. You know that. So, we give her normal, then she discovers that she's given birth to a daughter who at eight years old is a more powerful witch even than Willow. She freaks out and sends her to us – the enemy. But why send Billy, the boy who apparently is completely normal? Who has no powers whatsoever?"

Buffy automatically removed the saucepan from his grasp. "So they'd be company for each other?"

Spike shook his head. "I think it was instinct, luv. OK, Shanny might not have any actual powers – or if she has, she's buried them so deep they'll never emerge. But don't forget she's lived with vampires and demons, slayers and witches all her life. She has instincts and I reckon it's her instincts that made her send us Billy as well as Joyce. Deep down, she knows there's something different about him as well."

Buffy shut her eyes for a long second. The last twenty-four years of her life had give her some of the happiest and most of the tragic times of her whole existence. She could still remember the blinding joy when the Shanshu prophecy had made her life with Spike perfect. Not a morning had passed in all those years when the first thought in her head on waking hadn't been, "Spike's mine until we both die!"

And on the other side of the coin, she'd lost her daughter, lost Shanny, the miracle baby she'd never thought they'd have. And it had all been her fault! She should never have sent her away, sent her to live in California without her parents…

Outside in the yard, Joyce made the swing lurch higher. She was hungry and wondered when Granny would serve up some supper. She knew she was making chilli and it was ages since lunch.

"They're talking about us again," Billy said suddenly.

Joyce answered inside her head, because it was so much easier than speaking actual words. "You shouldn't listen. That's rude!"

Billy shrugged. "You're the only person who knows I can do it. You're just jealous because you can't hear them."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

'Poophead!"

"Big butt!"

Joyce jerked the swing with her mind and giggled as her twin nearly fell off into the grass. "Why don't you tell everyone you can do things, too?" she asked suddenly out loud. "You always pretend to be ordinary. But you're not any more, are you? But no one knows. That's not fair. Mom and Granny and Grandad all yell at me, but not you."

Billy glanced sideways at his twin. He often wandered around inside her mind – it was like his in some ways, but she was a girl and everything was sort of messy and untidy in there. She could do incredible things, but didn't know how or why.

He could recall the exact moment, six months ago, when something inside his own head – he called it a door, but it wasn't really – had clicked open and he'd walked through and become a different Billy. On the outside he knew he was still the Billy his Mom and Dad knew – who played baseball and made model aeroplanes and wanted to be a space pilot when he grew up.

But inside – the different Billy now knew what to tell Joyce, knew where to look for answers to her questions. Taught her to speak inside her head, not out loud. Kept her from doing really stupid things with her powers, like making her favourite football team win just because she liked the colour of their helmets better. Went with her to the weird worlds she could move between without any trouble.

It had been interesting listening to Granny and Grandad and cool that Grandad was a vampire. He wondered if that was why he couldn't get inside his head yet. Granny's was easy – he listened now, yes, she was thinking she hadn't made enough chilli but she would have had enough if Spike hadn't ate so much already, and it was her fault that Shanny hated them, they should never have sent her away, but at the time it had seemed the right thing to do, and oh – no, Spike, there's no time, the children will be in soon – " And then it all went blurry red and purple and he shook his head crossly. Granny and Grandad were always blanking out like that.

"If I tell people, they're going to be all funny about it. I think – " he cast a sideways look at his sister – "I think they'd split us up and make me live somewhere else."

Joyce shrugged and pulled a face. "That's silly! I'd just make myself to where you were. They couldn't stop me."

"They don't know that. And anyway, there might be spell or a charm or something we don't know about. Old Uncle Giles might know one."

Joyce pushed her scuffed trainers against the ground and spun the swing round in a circle. Sometimes actually doing things made her feel better than making them happen by her thoughts. Like swinging out here in the yard, or eating popcorn or shaking the Coke bottles up so the brown fizz splattered everywhere.

"What Granny said – you know about Grandad being a vampire and Uncle Giles being her Watcher person? That's weird. He's so old."

Billy struggled to find the words he needed. He had to admit it was odd to think of Granny being young and Uncle Giles fighting and helping defeat evil. When he came to visit from England, he bought them boring books and never talked about anything interesting. He spent most of his time with Mom and Dad, giving them advice about the plants in the back yard.

Suddenly he felt bored. All the talk about magic was so dull. Magic was just – there! He didn't know why everyone made such a fuss about it. Being able to hear what people were thinking was much more interesting. Except – he pulled a face – usually it wasn't! His sister was the only person he'd met so far who had fun things happening in her head.

"Bet I could climb that tree higher than you!"

"Bet you couldn't."

"You mustn't cheat. No flying."

"Ssshhh!" Joyce said crossly. "They don't know about that yet."

In the kitchen, Buffy broke from Spike's burning embrace that still had the power to make her legs go weak. She wondered briefly what right she had to have such a love in her life. The rest of the Scoobies – Willow, drifting from relationship to relationship after Kennedy's death in the first week of the European Demon Wars, still seeing Oz occasionally but refusing to accept that they had any future together. Was she happy? Buffy doubted it.

Xander – married to Regan, Kennedy's younger sister. They seemed content. He phoned occasionally, they exchanged e-mails and Christmas cards and she was godmother to his oldest daughter, Anna. Xander had grown fat. He and Regan rubbed along together, but sometimes when she was in their company, Buffy felt she was listening to a Xander who was acting the role of happily married husband and father. The real Xander was still wandering around the remains of the Sunnydale Hellmouth, searching….

Buffy had been desperately hurt when Shanny had allowed both Willow and Xander to visit the twins, but not her own parents. She knew they'd had to promise not to talk about anything weird or magical in front of the children.

Well, that had really helped, hadn't it?

She returned to the kitchen window, looking out at the two children she loved so dearly. They were scrambling up a big tree at the edge of the back yard, laughing and fighting like any other brother and sister.

Shanny had sent them to her, asking for help. Spike's revelations about Billy had made her feel scared. He was seldom wrong where the demon world was concerned. "So you think Billy is some sort of demon?" she whispered.

Spike's arm wrapped tightly round her waist. "I never said he was any sort of demon, pet," he said swiftly. "I just said he was dangerous. I think – although I can't prove it – I think he's mind reading us. Well, you and Joyce, definitely. I can feel him trying to get inside my head, but vampires have more protection against that sort of thing than humans."

"But Spike, how could they have such powers? Shanny was never – oh God, I wish we'd kept her with us. We should never have sent her away. We never really knew what she felt and did during those three years in Los Angeles - "...

Shanny Summers gazed at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. OK, she was fifteen today, but she knew she looked a lot older. These clothes weren't the sort she would normally wear, but it was her birthday – a day she always hated – a day when for some reason, she always felt rebellious.

The tight red top emphasised her breasts and her short skirt showed yards of smooth bronzed leg. She pulled a face at her reflection, knowing her Dad would have a major fit if he could see her now. As for her Mom – well, she probably wouldn't care. Anyway, they were in London, not here in L.A. She'd seen them three times in two years. They didn't know who she was.

She sat on the bed and surveyed the array of presents that had arrived for her. Jewellery – okay but a bit boring, nothing she could wear so her friends could see it – Cds, gift tokens, money, the sort of presents you'd send to a favourite niece, she thought coldly, not your only daughter.

But they hadn't phoned to say Happy Birthday! Oh, there'd be excuses and reasons. There always were. They'd have been out chasing something or someone. Killing or staking, glorying in what they did.

And it wasn't as if she missed their call. When they phoned it was awkward: they both asked endless questions and she answered, but she couldn't really speak to them. Yes, she was fine. Yes, she was doing OK at school. Yes, she was in the softball team. No, she didn't have any boyfriends, but knew lots of boys. No, she hadn't had any contact with any vamps or demons and yes, she would always carry a stake with her at all times and wear her cross…yahdda, yahdda, yahdda….

Did they really think she was deliberately going to go anywhere to meet a demon? That world was the last one she wanted to have anything to do with. She liked her new life. Liked being a normal girl at a normal school. She told her friends that her parents were in the diplomatic service and had to live abroad.

When her periods had started, she'd had to ask a friend at school what to do. There was no way she was going to tell the elderly Mr and Mrs Rosenberg, her godmother's parents. They were elderly, sweet and vague, slightly bewildered that their daughter Willow wanted them to look after Shanny while she was living in America, but delighted to have a young girl in the house again. A young girl who wasn't the slightest bit interested in spells, or magic or weirdness.

Shanny stood up and hesitated as she picked up her jacket. The Rosenbergs thought she was going to see a movie with David, their nephew. She liked David, a lot. He had dark curly hair and a cute grin. He wanted to be a lawyer and had no time for all the weirdness that his cousin Willow was into. Yes, David was the sort of boy she wanted to go out with. He was the sort of boy she would like to marry and have children with.

Shanny looked again at her reflection. Yes, she had a very clear idea of what she wanted her life to be. But – today she was fifteen and her parents hadn't phoned her. She'd told herself she didn't care, but was almost frightened at how angry she felt. So she was going to a club tonight with some friends. It was one of the most popular in L.A. You had to be eighteen to get in, but she knew she looked that old, especially at night. Tomorrow she'd go to watch David play basketball – but tonight – she'd show her parents she didn't care…

She flounced out of the house, and didn't hear the phone ringing insistently in her bedroom or get to speak to the bitterly disappointed parents who'd had such trouble getting through to her...

The twins were very quiet over dinner. They looked tired and made no fuss when Buffy insisted they went to bed early.

Joyce crawled into bed and smiled up at Buffy as she smoothed her blonde hair that lay across the pillow. She wondered if she should mention the woman with the strange painted face who was now standing behind her Granny – but thought it would probably cause a fuss. She shut her eyes and promptly fell fast asleep.

Buffy checked on Billy who was sprawled, starfish like across his bed, then went downstairs. Spike was pouring himself a Scotch. "I've been thinking, pet."

"Oooooh."

"Watch it! No, seriously, I think we need to speak to Shanny."

"And tell her what? That we think her son is dangerous?"

"No." He studied the amber liquid in his glass and looked up at her, his blue eyes as brilliant as they had been all those years before. "I want to know who the twins' real father is!"

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5    Power Play

**FUTURE IMPERFECT** by **Lilachigh**

****The story so far: Years have passed since the L.A. Apocalypse. Buffy and Spike are married and he has received half the Shanshu prophecy, so he ages like a human and has been able to father a child, their daughter Shanny. But the child was born in the middle of the Demon Wars and being a normal little girl, with no powers, found life terrifying. She was sure her parents did not, indeed could not love, someone who was ordinary and grew apart from them, especially when, aged 13, they sent her to live in America with Willow's parents. But now life has moved on. Shanny has twin children, 8 year old Joyce and Billy. She has kept them away from their grandparents, determined that they would live normal lives. But Joyce is turning into a powerful witch and, in despair, Shanny has sent them to Buffy and Spike, to help them understand the family history and for Joyce to learn to control her powers. But even Shanny does not realise that Billy has powers too and it is Spike who works out that his grandson is beginning to read minds. And it is Spike who now wonders - was David Green really the twins' father?

Chp 5 Power Play

Buffy sat on the edge of the sofa and stared up at her husband. Spike was studying the whisky in his glass. He seemed unaware of the bombshell he'd just thrown, but she knew him too well not to guess that behind that poker face, his emotions were churning as much as hers.

"You think David Green isn't the twins' father?" she got out eventually.

Spike glanced up at her and winced at the pain and shock on her face.

"I know you wanted to kill David at the time," she said dryly. "I had to stop you tearing him limb from limb, slowly over a week. You didn't seem to be asking who else was involved then."

Spike tossed back the Scotch and came to sit next to her. He draped his arm round her stiff shoulders but she refused to relax and he moved away a little to give her some space. "OK, at the time I thought it was David. They were going out together. The Rosenbergs thought it was him. And, to be fair, he never denied it."

"Maybe he thought he was the father," Buffy whispered.

"Maybe he did, pet." Spike brushed the thought aside. Even after all these years it was difficult for him to imagine his fifteen-year-old daughter having sex with different men. But the twins lying in their beds upstairs were living proof that she had.

"Now you're not sure?"

Spike sighed. "Sweetheart, we've got two grandchildren and, not to mince words, they're both odd. I don't think we've got any idea how weird, to be honest. Their mother is the daughter of a Slayer and me, a vampire. And one who's been given part of the Shanshu prophecy. Is that parentage enough to create two children with such powers if their father is just an ordinary guy? OK, a nice guy, a great guy. I like David. But is he the twins' natural father? I doubt it."

Buffy took a deep breath and folded her arms across her stomach. She ached with the pain of how badly she had failed her daughter. If Spike was right, if Shanny had got herself pregnant by someone who wasn't David, then how scared and alone she must have felt. And if that had been true, even then she'd never turned to her mother for help.

Buffy knew that if that had happened to her, she would have gone to Joyce. OK, she would probably have told Willow first, but then she would have told her mother. But the first she had heard about her own daughter had been that awful phone call…

...

"Buffy?"

"Hi, Willow! Great to hear you. How's things?"

"Well…."

"Where are you, Will? Still in England. We're in Spain. Madrid. Spike got a lead on that Spenquway demon gathering. We reckon we could get the whole gross, icky lot this time."

"No, I'm not in England…"

"Oh, don't tell me, I can guess. Oz has finally managed to persuade you to go out to New Zealand with him. I thought he – "

"Buffy! Listen. I'm with Shanny."

"Sorry, Will, I thought you said Shanny. The reception's dreadful here."

"Buffy, you and Spike need to come to Los Angeles at once."

"What's happened? Oh my god – Spike! Spike! - Willow, is she OK? Tell me."

"She's fine. Well, nearly fine. Buffy, there's no easy way of telling you this. Shanny's pregnant."

...

Buffy stared at Spike, remembering too clearly their hurried flight across the Atlantic, the awful meeting with Shanny that they had handled so badly. Spike had been in a raging fury – not so much with his beloved daughter, but with young David, who'd stood there, his hand on Shanny's shoulder, facing up to a vampire in full game face who'd been threatening to kill him there and then.

Buffy had been even angrier – but, and she had to admit it – her fury had been directed at Shanny. How stupid. How irresponsible. How insane. She'd thrown all that at her. Why? Why hadn't she been more sympathetic, comforting, helpful?

Because I felt so wretchedly guilty, she thought now. We'd sent her away to keep her safe, to give her a normal life, the type of life I never had. And that had been an enormous sacrifice. We missed her so much, but we'd done it for her and this was how she'd repaid us. But if we'd kept her with us, then she wouldn't have been expecting a baby at fifteen….

...

Shanny and David sat in her bedroom, staring at each other. "Are you certain?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Shanny laughed, a tight, bitter sound. "Oh yes, I'm afraid so. I think I'm about four months pregnant, David."

"Oh God! I am so sorry. But we only – well, it was just the once – surely – I thought, perhaps you were on the Pill."

"No," Shanny said briefly, wishing with all her heart that she had been. But she'd never thought, never believed - "It only takes one time. That's for sure."

David scrubbed at his face with his fists, then looked at her again, seemingly having rubbed away the boy. A man sat there now. "I'm twenty. We can marry when you're sixteen. It'll be OK, Shanny. I'll look after you; you know I love you."

Shanny felt the first tiny whisper of warmth creep into her soul, which had been frozen and cold since she'd done the test two weeks before. David loved her. David wanted to look after her. He was the only person in the world who did. "I'm going to tell Willow," she said, not believing how calm she sounded. What had happened to the girl who'd lain in bed in this room for night after night, hysterically crying into her pillow, wishing she were dead?

"Yes, Auntie Willow will help. And – your parents?"

"Oh yes, I suppose they'd better know," Shanny said coolly. "I'm sure they'll be upset, but then they live abroad; it won't worry them that much. They'll be more concerned by my not going to college, but then, I've never been very bright, anyway. No biggie."

David reached out and took her hand. It felt very small and cold in his. He had loved Shanny Summers from the second he met her. He could think of nothing better than marrying her and raising their family. OK, they were stupidly young, but hey, these things happened. He would finish college and law school, and a job in his father's firm was guaranteed. It would be difficult, but not impossible.

"You didn't – Shanny, don't take this the wrong way, but if you'd wanted to get rid of the baby – well, I'm just so pleased you didn't."

Shanny smiled gravely. "No, David, it never occurred to me."

He moved to sit next to her on the bed and they sat with their arms tightly around each other, both staring into the future – one in hopeful expectation, the other in cold dread. Shanny knew that her last remark had been a lie, probably not the first one she would tell him, she thought drearily.

The biggest lie of all was when she'd told him the baby was his. Well, it still might be! She tried to hold on to the thought, but knew she was cheating herself as well as David. Because she'd done the sums, counted the days on her calendar and knew that when she'd slept with David, she'd already been three weeks pregnant.

And that meant – the memory came flooding back – the party – the drink – a lot of much older guys – some of them grown men, not boys. She'd been so angry with her parents for not ringing on her birthday – there'd been one guy; he'd had a lot to drink, too. He'd been part of the group, out celebrating someone's birthday, too. They'd been happy. She'd laughed. She'd wanted to teach her parents a lesson. She'd gone to the party a virgin and came away pregnant. And she didn't even know his name.

But she didn't care. This baby had nothing to do with him. It was all hers. She would love it and care for it and keep it safe. And it would never have anything to do with vampires or witches or magic, ever!

...

"So you think that whoever got Shanny pregnant was – is – geez, I don't know! What, Spike? You think she slept with a demon? Is that it?"

Spike leapt to his feet and strode round the room as if there was no longer enough space in the world to keep him happy. "No, I doubt if she'd still be here if it had been a demon and Shanny was far too well trained to let a vampire anywhere near her. But Buffy, think about those kids upstairs. There's a vast amount of power inside them. It can't all come from Shanny alone."

"OK, supposing you're right – I don't say you are, but just supposing. Do you really think she's going to tell us now, after nearly ten years have gone by? Spike, she hardly talks to us about anything. The fun subject of who she had sex with ten years ago isn't going to make her all confidence girl with the parents she obviously thinks are a waste of space."

"What about Willow? She's always been close to her. Let's face it, she was the one Shanny told first."

Buffy heard the pain in his voice and knew it was echoed in her own face. At the time there had been all the worry of Shanny's pregnancy, David's insistence that he would marry her when she was sixteen, the recriminations, the arguments, the practicalities involved because, hey, there was still a Demon War going on in Europe and although it was nearly over, there were still little pockets of resistance that needed to be wiped out. She and Spike were needed badly in Spain.

But running underneath all of that, Buffy remembered the pain of jealousy that had flooded through her whenever she recalled that it had been to Willow her daughter had turned to when she needed someone to help her – Willow, not her parents, definitely not her mother.

And, she had to admit to herself that it had coloured her whole relationship with her best friend ever since. Oh, they'd worked together to make sure Shanny was well looked after. Willow had been there when the twins were delivered: she'd seen them directly after Buffy and Spike. Joyce and Billy had seemed like a miracle to her. Her cousin David was their father. That made them her blood relations, the closest she would ever get to her own children.

Buffy admitted she'd felt jealous as the years had passed. And it had all come to a head when Shanny had banished her parents from the twins' lives, but had let Willow remain in contact.

Willow had sounded upset for Buffy, but she'd refused to mediate with Shanny. She'd said she would lose her confidence if she didn't respect her wishes, but Buffy had always believed that secretly she was quite pleased that the real grandparents were no longer on the scene.

"Willow would never believe in a million years that David wasn't their father," Buffy replied wearily. "Anyway, she's gone back to England. I think Joyce scared her."

Spike smiled. "She scares the hell out of me, too, pet. Now I know how powerful her magic is, I get the feeling if I tell her off for not eating her vegetables, I'll wake up the next morning as a monkey or a rattlesnake."

Buffy sighed. "She probably wouldn't bother waiting till the morning! But I know what you mean. And she doesn't even see anything wrong in what she does. You're right, Spike. That power hasn't come from David."

"We need someone in L.A. to do a little detective work for us," Spike said. "Shanny had school friends – one of them might well know who she was dating."

He looked at Buffy and the same thought struck them at the same time.

"No way!" Buffy said, her eyes widening in shock. "I am not involving Angel in this!"

Upstairs, Billy knelt on his bed and glanced across at his twin who was fast asleep. He considered waking her, then decided the morning would be time enough. It would give him a few more hours to think about all the confused, jumbled thoughts he'd read in Granny's mind. A lot about his Mom and Dad, which he hadn't understood. Some horrid black flashes about Auntie Willow and one enormous dark purple explosion about an angel. Which was weird, because angels were nice, helpful things, so he'd always believed. Why would Granny not want to think about an angel?

…...

Shanny Summers-Green sat in her bedroom listening to the quiet. David, her husband, was at work, the dog was snoring out on the porch and even the cat was curled up on top of the sofa.

With the twins gone, the house echoed with emptiness. She missed them so much, but there was still that trickle of relief that she wouldn't go downstairs and find the dog waltzing round the kitchen with bright purple fur, or the cat actually flying around the yard, chasing the birds through the air and sometimes catching them!

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her neat, tidy self stared back at her; pale, tense, eyes permanently worried. The light on the Answering Machine was still flashing. She knew it was her mother, ringing again, wanting to talk to her about the past, a past Shanny had buried so deeply that she didn't know if she could ever bear to dig it up and look at it again….

…..

…the night-club was hot and noisy, the music thumping hard and fast with a driving bass note that drilled into your brain and made your eyes hurt. Shanny was with her friend Paget. She'd met her at another party and loathed and liked her in equal parts.

She knew Paget thought she was seventeen, nearly eighteen. Paget was eighteen already, knew her way round all the clubs in L.A., knew boys – no not just boys, but men – lots of them. Shanny knew she was dangerous – oh, not in a demony, vampirey way. Huh, she reckoned Paget would faint if she met a vampire. But dangerous in a different way – a way that meant cigarettes and drink, drugs and sex. That meant breaking the rules, being free and grown up, being your own person, cutting the ties that bound you to parents who hadn't wanted you, still didn't want you, were always happier when they were together without you and hadn't bothered to phone on this your fifteenth birthday….

Paget found them a place to stand at the bar and ordered two drinks. Shanny thought there was probably a lot of vodka in hers, but that was OK. Vodka only made you drunk when you went outside in the colder air, everyone knew that.

"Why d'you wear that cross all the time?" Paget asked curiously, leaning forward to finger the carved wood at Shanny's neck.

"What? Oh, this old thing. It's…oh, everyone's wearing them this year," Shanny said airily, gulping down half her drink in one go, and wondering what Paget would say if she knew her father had tied this round her neck when she was three and told her she must never, ever take it off and what might happen to her if she did.

Paget lost interest and stared round provocatively at the crowded club. "Check out those guys over there – they're like – wow!"

Shanny turned and looked, then said hesitantly, "They seem quite old."

"Yes, Shanny, that's because they're men, not boys," Paget said, tossing back her long blonde hair and easing her top another inch lower down her bust. "Look – they've got champagne on their table. Bottles of it. I bet it's some sort of celebration, a birthday or promotion. Come on!"

"Wait!" Shanny grasped the older girl's arm. "I mean – they look – well – drunk."

Paget pulled away. "Scared?" she mocked. "I thought you were up for a good time. Or are you worried what your Mommy and Daddy will say?"

"I'm not scared of anything. And I couldn't care less what my parents think!"

She followed Paget across the crowded floor and was soon part of the joking, drinking, laughing gang of guys who were all out for a good time. She found herself sitting next to one of them, held closely against his thin, muscular body. He looked younger than the others, but Shanny reckoned he was blessed with the boyish looks that would stay forever young even when he was an old man.

"You're very sweet," he muttered, kissing her ear.

Shanny wriggled but couldn't get away. But then wondered why she should want to. He was cute, or as cute as a guy who would never see thirty again could be, of course. She took a long swig from a glass. She was feeling a bit dizzy; perhaps she'd had too much vodka, but what the hell! No one would ever know. No one cared what she did, so why shouldn't she do exactly what she wanted to do.

The next few hours were just a blur – somehow she and Paget had been in a car with two guys, her nice one was kissing her a lot. They were in a photo booth at some point and she was sitting on his lap and they were laughing, helplessly. And then they were in the car, on the back seat and she was falling away, then pain and –

…...

The twenty four year old Shanny shuddered and focused again on the cool greens and greys of her bedroom. He'd been a nice guy. He'd wanted to see her again, but of course, he thought she was eighteen. He'd have run a mile if he'd known she was only just fifteen.

And then in the weeks that followed, things had gone from bad to worse. She'd felt hot and irritated, knowing that she was no longer a virgin, knowing she'd crossed a line in life too early, bitterly unhappy but at the same time defiant. She'd slept with David, her godmother Willow's cousin, one afternoon when they were alone in the house. Carried away by the sexual tension that had suddenly engulfed them.

A week later, Shanny had realised that all her helter-skelter emotions were hormone driven. She was pregnant.

She sighed and reached into the bottom drawer of her dressing-table. From the very back, under a pile of running socks, she pulled out a small envelope. Folded tight inside were a few recipes, cut from magazines, and tucked between them was a strip of photos, the type you got from a cheap photo booth.

There she was, her hair loose and untidy, lipstick smeared, eyes blurred, obviously tipsy if not downright drunk, laughing madly with the man who she knew was the father of her children.

She sighed and gazed at his face, wondering where he was now. He'd be in his late thirties, probably married with kids of his own. And here she was, twenty-four, with two children she couldn't control, and parents whom she didn't know.

A Slayer and a vampire, the recipient of the Shanshu prophesy. The reason she was called Shanny. Oh, she knew all the stories; the fights with vampires, the apocalypses, the battle with the First. Mom dying instead of her sister, Dad dying to save everyone from the Hellmouth. Yes, she'd heard them from Willow, from Uncle Andrew, from her Aunt Dawn, from everyone over the years.

Buffy and Spike, their names always said together, as if they were one person, their exploits told over and over again. But to her they'd just been Mom and Dad, those miraculous people who flashed in and out of her life, trailing excitement behind them like stardust.

She'd loved them so much, until she realised that no matter what they said, they couldn't really love her. How could they? She was just ordinary, boring Shanny, not a Slayer, or Chosen, or a witch or even a demon. Shanny smiled sadly: she'd always thought she'd have been far more interesting to them if she had been an evil demon!

She slid her fingers deeper into the envelope and pulled out a small, creased sheet of paper. It was falling apart; it had been read so many times. She opened it up carefully, looking at the words she knew by heart.

_Dear grandchild,_

_I wish I could call you by name, but you are just a distant hope at present. I've no idea if you are a boy or a girl! When you read this, if you ever exist, I will have been dead for a long time._

_What can I say to you? That I would have given much to have known you, to have shared in your life, to have loved you. I cannot give you presents, or trips to the zoo. I can't bake cookies for you or take you skating. But all I can send you down the years is a little advice._

_Whatever happens, you will grow up in a strange world. You will meet danger and difficulties that I can only imagine. You will be the Slayer's child, one she doesn't think she will ever have. Perhaps she won't._

_But if you have, by some miracle, arrived in this world and are finding life hard and impossible to understand, then believe just one thing – you have the most remarkable woman for a mother. Trust her completely. She will never let you down._

_All my love to you,_

_your grandmother, Joyce Summers_

Shanny folded the paper and put it, with the strip of photos, back into her drawer. She knew her Mom had been surprised when she'd named her girl twin Joyce. Pleased, delighted, but surprised. Buffy knew nothing of the letter which had come to Shanny on her twelfth birthday, forwarded by Hank, her grandfather, a man she rarely saw.

Shanny stood up and smoothed down the creases in her skirt. She liked to look neat and tidy, just as she needed her home to be perfect, organised, ordinary. No piles of stakes on the table, no crossbows under the windows where the curtains were never opened to let in the sunlight. OK, she still wore the cross around her neck, as did both the twins. But there was no weapon chest in the living-room and no talk of vampires, demons or death except when old family friends arrived to visit from Cleveland or England.

Would her life have been different if her grandmother had lived? She made her way downstairs to start preparing David's dinner. He'd be in from work soon and she knew he wanted them to ring the twins tonight, so that meant her having to talk to her Mom as well.

What had Granny Joyce called her? A remarkable woman. Trust her completely she'd said in her letter. Well, Shanny hadn't, not until two weeks ago. She hadn't wanted her or her father anywhere near the twins. She broken all ties, refused to let them speak, even on the phone. She'd seen her Mom's face frozen with pain, seen the despair in her Dad's eyes, but she hadn't relented. Let them know that for once they couldn't have everything they wanted. They hadn't wanted her – okay – well, they certainly weren't going to ruin the twins' lives.

She began chopping onions for a stew, then dashed a hand across her face as the tears began to fall. Stupid onions! Making her cry. Oh yes, keeping her parents from the twins had really worked out well, hadn't it? All her plans for bringing up two nice, normal kids who would never need to know about vampires or demons or magic – smashed to pieces as soon as Joyce was old enough to focus her eyes.

And now, despite all her promises to herself, her Mom and Dad had the twins. Shanny chopped the onions harder, the knife flashing. They had exactly what they'd always wanted – children who were special, different, magical. Not like their daughter, not like her at all.

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6   Inside his head

**Future Imperfect** by **Lilachigh**

**The story so far: **Twenty five years from the L.A. Apocalypse - Buffy and Spike are married and have a daughter Shanny, born as the result of half the Shanshu Prophecy. Still a vampire, Spike now ages like a human. Shanny, an ordinary little girl with no powers, had a traumatic childhood as her parents were fighting in the long European Demon Wars. When aged 13 she was sent back to America, she was convinced she wasn't wanted. The result 2 years later was a rebellious teen who got pregnant by a man she met in a night-club. The result - twins - 8 year old Joyce and Billy. But Shanny was determined her children would not be involved in her parents' world and refused to let them have any contact. A shame, because Joyce is a powerful little witch and Billy has just discovered he can read and alter minds. Unable to cope with Joyce, Shanny has sent the twins to their grandparents so they can be taught a few basic survival lessons. But this is not going well, especially as Spike has decided that David, Shanny's husband, can not possibly be the twins' natural father.

Chp 6 Inside his head

The morning had dawned sullen, as if a storm was brewing somewhere, just over the horizon. The sky was covered with low, brassy grey clouds and thunder rumbled somewhere, a long way off.

Joyce and her twin brother, Billy, were sitting astride a big branch in a tree outside their grandparents' house. Joyce's face was pale and sullen, her blonde hair pulled back from her face in two braids that were so tight the skin on her temples looked stretched and thin.

Billy glanced at her curiously. He could have listened into her thoughts but he knew what he'd find – a horrible swirling mess. "Why are you so cross?" he asked eventually, picking a couple of twigs and throwing them down into the yard.

Joyce stopped the twigs in mid air and made them hit each other violently, like swords, all the way to the ground. "They're still arguing, aren't they? They haven't stopped, except when we were eating breakfast."

Billy shrugged. "Grown-ups are always arguing."

"Not Granny and Grandad. It's about me, isn't it?"

Billy punched her shoulder. "Everything isn't about you, it's about us, poop face! Grandad doesn't like me listening to what people are thinking about. He reckons it's weird."

Joyce looked at him curiously. "I didn't think he knew. He's clever, isn't he? But why is he all cranky about that? It's not naughty, is it? Not like being a witch."

"Being a witch isn't naughty. You know Auntie Willow said it wasn't. It's just what you are."

"Well, I wish they'd stop arguing about it. My head hurts."

Billy groaned silently. His twin's headaches usually meant one thing – she'd take them away somewhere different, which was usually fun, but he had the feeling that now wasn't the time to go missing. And he was getting a bit fed-up of always being dragged along wherever Joyce wanted to go.

"I wish we could go somewhere really nice, with lots of animals – I bet I could find a universe where there's just penguins. I like penguins."

Billy frowned and sort of - prodded - her thoughts from inside his head - he'd never tried this before, but if he could read what people were thinking, then perhaps he could change it, too.

"Or maybe we'd better stay here and see what happens," Joyce said reluctantly.

Billy grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Wow. It worked! Well, it did with twin, but that was almost like going inside his own head and changing his mind. He wondered what would happen if he tried it inside someone else's head….?

Inside the house, Buffy snapped shut her phone and glared at Spike. "Shanny's still not answering. I've left countless messages. Nothing! Shall I ring David at work and ask him to tell her we need to speak to her?"

Spike was draining a glass of breakfast blood. "No point, pet. You know what she's like – stubborn as her mother when it suits her. She'll only speak to us when she wants to."

"Oh great, blame me. Honestly, that girl drives me insane."

Spike sighed. He was only too aware that his wife and daughter had a love/hate relationship that swung from one extreme to the other. They were so alike in some ways. Both as stubborn and headstrong as each other. Yes, alike, except, of course, for the one thing that mattered the most to Shanny. She was not a Slayer. She was just his little girl and loving them both as much as he did sometimes left him feeling as if he was being pulled apart by Drixtlle demons.

"Well, sweetheart, Shanny and David didn't ring last night to speak to the twins so they're sure to this evening."

Buffy sighed and pouring herself another cup of coffee, stared out of the window. She could see the twins sitting high up in the big tree at the end of the yard. They'd been silent over breakfast and had escaped outside as soon as they could.

They looked so small and helpless; skinny, fair-haired kids, wearing jeans, T-shirts and scuffed red baseball boots. But they weren't helpless. Strangely enough they would have been in far less danger if they were! Joyce used her powers so wildly, without thinking. Oh, it was fine for Willow to say she was an incredibly powerful witch, but power without control was wrong. She remembered how Faith had been when she first knew her. What was to stop Joyce ending up like that as she grew older? Going her own way, doing exactly what she wanted, just because she could.

And as for Billy! If Spike was right about the mind-reading, then they were all in big trouble. Buffy shuddered. She could still remember vividly how she'd almost lost her mind when she'd caught those powers for just a short time from a demon. How was a small boy going to be able to shut out that dreadful clamour of pain and joy, emotions like hatred, despair, fear, love?

A rumble of thunder broke into her thoughts and she opened the window and yelled at the twins to come indoors. A storm was heading their way….

In L.A. it was hot, the glare of sunlight on a million panes of glass glittering relentlessly down on the streets below. Shanny stood on the sidewalk, trying to see through the dark glass windows and doors of a building in the centre of the city.

She glanced again at the little card in her hand. She'd had it for some time; when her Aunt Willow – no, she must remember to call her Willow now she was an adult - had flown to England, she'd left several old purses behind for Shanny to put in a garage sale. This little card had been zipped into an inner pocket.

Oh, she knew who he was. Not that her Mom and Dad had said much about him, but Willow, Dawn – who refused to be called Auntie – and Uncle Andrew had all told her bits and pieces of the old story.

It had seemed magical when she was little. Part and parcel of the marvellous, fantastic Buffy and Spike story that was her parents' life before she'd come along to spoil it for them.

This man, Angel, had been a vampire, too, like Dad. He had a soul, too, and tried to do good. He was a detective and somehow -although she had to admit she was a bit hazy on these details because, hey, when you were seven or eight, they could be a bit boring – he'd received the other part of the Shanshu Prophecy, the part that Dad didn't get.

She'd lain awake the whole of the night before, lying with David's arm heavy across her back, pretending to sleep, taking deep slow breaths. She'd learnt how to pretend when she was tiny. If her parents thought she was asleep, they would stay in the same room and she could hear them laughing and kissing and the warmth of their love flowed over her. She could almost pretend that they loved her as much as they loved each other.

She would listen to them making plans for battles, fights; lay there under the covers, taking those same deep breaths as she realised how difficult she made their life, how if she didn't exist, they could run and fight and kill and not have to worry about a small, brown haired girl who wasn't special.

So last night she'd pretended to dear David that everything was fine, that tomorrow they would ring her parents and speak to the twins. He missed them as much as she did, but although he was obviously well aware of her background, he didn't truly understand what Joyce was becoming. How could he?

But this Angel person. He'd been a friend of Mom and Dad, he was a vampire, and so he'd know all about everything Slayerish, just like they did. And he was a detective. And that was what she needed more than anything at the moment. She squared her shoulders and pushed through the imposing doorway. And there was no one to tell her that at that moment she was being just as brave as her mother.

Angel was sitting on the balcony, sipping his breakfast orange juice and blood cocktail. He gazed out over his rooftop swimming pool to where the skyscrapers faded into the distance. He knew he'd never ever get used to this gift. His part of the Shanshu – to walk in the sunlight and not die. He craved daylight, even after all these years of having it, he still made certain he was outside as he sun rose every morning. Although the PTB certainly had a wry sense of humour because the Gem of Amarra would have given him this all those years before. Well, that was water under the bridge.

His phone purred and the girl on the reception desk said, "There's a Mrs Green to see you, Angel. I told her to make an appointment but she says it's very important. She must talk to you."

He frowned and stretched. How many times had he heard those words over the past years? And it rarely was important. Oh he helped everyone he could, and occasionally there would be a demon involved who put up a hell of a fight, sometimes a vamp, but they were all very low key. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been puzzled or worried about a case.

But it was odd for a customer to come to his apartment. They usually arrived at the downtown office. He couldn't think how anyone had found this address. He gave it to so very few people these days. So perhaps important really was important this time.

"OK, send her up." He leant across to a panel set in the table and pressed a button that unlatched the front door. He smiled sadly; in his mind he could hear Wesley saying, "Really, Angel, it wouldn't do you any harm to get out of your chair once in a while." But then Wes had never been truly convinced by modern technology.

He was pouring out coffee when the sliding door from the apartment to the terrace opened and a slight figure in a white jacket and dark red dress stood there. The shock was violent – scalding coffee splashed over his hand and the jug went crashing to the tiled floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Did I make you jump? Did it burn you?"

"What, no, my fault. Sorry, I'm fine. Do sit down, Mrs Green. Can I get you anything – ?" He ignored the burn on his wrist; he knew it would heal within minutes.

"No thank you. Mr Angel – "

"Just Angel."

"Right, Angel." She hesitated, looking at him. He was very tall, with a lot of black hair worn in a very old-fashioned way. He was supposed to be a friend of her parents but he didn't look as old as them. "I'm sorry to bother you at home, but it's so important. I think you know my Mom and Dad, Buffy and Spike?"

Angel swallowed. Oh yes, he knew them. He knew who she was; he'd known the first second he set eyes on her. And now he was gazing into the same greeny-hazel eyes that had haunted his dreams for years.

But apart from the eyes, she didn't look like either Buffy or Spike. Although she was small and thin, her hair was brown and the tense set of her face owed nothing to the parents who'd produced her. So this was the result of Spike's Shanshu gift. Shanny Summers – he'd forgotten her married name was Green, now he remembered. She couldn't be more than what – twenty-four, twenty-five?

"Angel?" She was looking anxiously at him and he realised he hadn't replied, but he couldn't take his eyes off her face. "Yes, I know your parents very well, Mrs Green," he said at last. "In fact the reason I was startled was that you look so like your grandmother. I knew her, as well."

Shanny looked pleased. "Joyce. I named my daughter after her. I wish I'd known her."

Angel had recovered his senses. "You would have liked her. Now, how can I help you?"

"My godmother, Willow Rosenberg, she had your card. I…she's spoken of you before. When I was young. And you're a detective and I need one desperately."

She rummaged through her purse and brought out a small envelope. "Here! This picture. It's of me and a man I met in a nightclub, nine years ago. I need to trace him. And I need to trace him quickly."

Angel took the envelope. "Surely your parents - ? They're both pretty good at finding people when they want to." He watched, curious, as an ugly red flushed over her face.

"I don't want to bother them. This is – personal. And I can't go to an ordinary detective agency because this man – well, he could be a….a…."

"You're scared he's some sort of demon?"

Shanny nodded, glad that this tall, dark man had understood so quickly. "He wasn't a vampire." She laughed, a little bitterly. "I've been brought up too well not to know a vamp when I meet one. Oh!" Her hands went to her mouth and he smiled at how young the gesture made her look. "I'm so sorry. That was very rude."

He smiled. "Don't worry. So, this guy could be a demon. Well, let's have a look at him." He shook the envelope onto the table and a little strip of photos slid out. He picked them up and felt the world slip away from him and a great roaring sound echoed through his head.

From a long way away he could hear Spike's daughter saying, "So do you think you can trace him, Angel?"

And he was looking at a picture of Connor, his son.

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7 Were they Blind?

**Future Imperfect by Lilachigh**

**The story so far:  
><strong>After the L.A. apocalypse, Spike and Angel shared the Shanshu prophecy. Spike got to age as a human and be able to have children. Angel got to be able to walk in the sunlight. Buffy and Spike married and, while fighting demons in Europe, had Shanny, their little miracle child. But Shanny had a disturbed childhood because she was an ordinary little girl with no powers, scared of her life, sure that her parents couldn't love her. When she was sent back to America aged 13, she rebelled and two years later got pregnant by a man she met in a nightclub. The result was twins Joyce and Billy, children who were not allowed to know their grandparents. Not until now. Joyce has turned into a powerful little witch and Billy is beginning to realise he has powers to change minds. Married now to David, Willow's cousin, Shanny sends them to Buffy and Spike and sets out herself to discover who their real father had been.

Chp 7 Were they blind?

Joyce Summers-Green was bored, bored, bored! And miserable. She sat on the porch swing, one bare foot tucked under her, the other kicking backwards and forwards against the porch railings, sending the swing spinning, first one way, then the other.

Staying with Granny and Grandad had been fun at first. It was cool to learn that Grandad was a vampire and that being a witch wasn't as dreadful as Mom made it sound all the time. But Billy was being odd and sometimes her brain hurt, as if it was pressing on the inside of her skull.

And she missed Mom and Dad. She spun the swing round again, pretending that she didn't have that burning sensation in her eyes and nose that meant she was going to cry. She never cried. But she did miss her parents. Even when Mommy was all tight-lipped cross, telling her off and Daddy sighed and told her to control herself and not do magic because it upset Mom, they were still always there.

She wasn't at all sure that they loved her: not like they loved Billy. They thought Twin was a normal little boy who liked boy things like baseball and model planes. Dumbass was a word Joyce had learnt at school recently. It was a good word for her parents who could be so stupid where Twin was concerned.

Not that she'd ever tell on him, of course, and it was only recently that she'd realised he could do the cool thought and feeling thingy. But they'd never guessed he was the one who'd stolen all the chocolate chip cookies last year and NOT HER! Even when she'd told them she hadn't magiced them out of the tin, they hadn't believed her and sent her to her room for lying.

Which, of course, was another dumbass thing to do because she just took herself off somewhere else. That time she'd gone to the world where everyone floated through the air. That had been cool.

She wondered now if she would ever be allowed to go home. Billy would. She knew that. But then Billy wouldn't go without her. Joyce worried at her thumbnail. Was that still true? Would Billy go home without her? He missed Mom and Dad, too. Perhaps she'd have to stay here forever as punishment for being a witch, even if Granny said it wasn't a naughty thing to be.

She scowled violently. She was always being told no to do things, but no one ever told her why not. Joyce spun the swing around faster and faster. She liked being a witch! She didn't want to be a normal girl! There, she'd said it. Normal was boring.

It was a sultry afternoon again; there had been storms all week, crashing thunder and lightning hissing through the sky. Joyce had had a really great idea for her and Billy to go up into the clouds to see what the thunder looked like close up. You might even get to see where the lightning started from. But Billy had just given her that poop-face expression of his and told her she was stupid, that thunder couldn't be seen.

"Bet it so could," she muttered now, wishing it wasn't so hot. She made a little snow shower fall on her head for a few moments, then heard Granny yelling, "Joyce! Stop that!" from the bedroom window and flicked the snow away with a guilty finger.

Grandad Spike was having his afternoon lie down in a darkened room. It was something to do with being a vampire and not liking the sunlight. But there wasn't any at the moment and Joyce didn't completely understand why Granny had to lie down with him, because Granny was a Slayer, not a vampire. Still, why ever she did, the rest obviously made her feel good because she always had a funny little smile on her face when she came downstairs again.

Joyce sighed. Grown-ups were difficult. Spells and magic were far easier.

It was hot, so why not make it cold? She was hungry – why did she have to wait for Granny to cook her meal. Why couldn't she just wave her hand – and hey! Cheeseburger!

She was munching when her twin appeared from behind the house and swung up to sit astride the porch railings. "You'll get grounded if Granny finds you doing that," he said smugly.

Joyce stuck out her tongue, waving the slice of pickle that was lying on it at him. "Go tell them, then!" she jeered. "I don't care."

Billy's bright blue eyes went blank for a second; as if he was thinking of something important. Joyce stared at him. Twin was acting odd. "Mom's worried," he said suddenly.

Joyce felt her heart give a little skip and she banished the rest of her burger into thin air. "What do you mean? Worried about me doing witching again?"

Billy frowned. "No, it's a different sort of worry."

"You're making it up! We're too far away for you to feel her thoughts."

Billy shrugged. "I know but I still can. Maybe she's super worried today."

"Is Daddy cross, too?"

Billy's eyes went blank again, then he looked puzzled. "I don't know. There's a "that was a great golf swing" sort of feeling and a "I hate golf; thank god I never have to play it" feeling, all at the same time."

Joyce jumped out of the swing and joined her twin sitting on the rail. "But he's not worried or cross about us?"

Billy shook his blond head. He was surprised that he could 'feel' across so many miles. Usually he had to be close to people to know what was in their minds. Perhaps it was because it was Mom and Dad that he could do this. Or – was he getting better at it? No, that couldn't be true otherwise he wouldn't have two different feelings for the same person.

"What did Mom say when you spoke to her last night?"

Joyce shrugged. "Just about us being good, not annoying Granny and Grandad, usual stuff. She'd made some new curtains for the family room and baked Dad an angel cake, then she hung up really fast which annoyed Granny because she wanted to speak to her." The hazel eyes sharpened and she frowned. "One thing was weird. Mom giggled when she told me about the cake."

Billy stared at her and, for a brief second, plunged inside her mind to check she wasn't keeping anything secret. Then he zoomed out again because he knew twin would be upset if she realised what he was doing and anyway, they never had secrets from each other. Well, okay, the fact that he could make people change their minds was a big secret, but he felt that this was one he couldn't share. Not at the moment.

He checked on Granny and Grandad again, but all he got was the whirling purple and pink cloud he always got from them during the afternoon when Grandad was having his lie down. Billy sighed. Grown-ups could be so boring! There was nothing to do here.

"Let's go watch TV," he said.

"It isn't working," Joyce yawned. "I think the power's gone off again. Granny says it's the storm. It should have broken two days ago but it's still circling round and round. Maybe there'll be a tornado. I wish you'd let us go and have a closer look."

Billy pulled a face. "That's stupid. You can't go messing about looking at lightning, J. You'll get all burnt up. Or get me burnt up."

"Someone's coming," Joyce said, ignoring him. A long black convertible was gliding slowly up the drive. "Granny's got a visitor."

Billy groaned. "Oh no. Come on. Let's hide. We'll have to hand round cookies and be polite and they'll say 'Oh are these the grandkids. My they've got your ears and nose and some old auntie's hands and ask what we want to do when we grow up."

"We could go somewhere cool. I mean cold as well as cool. How about Greenland?"

Billy sighed and was just about to grab her hand and pull her around the side of the house when a tall man with black hair got out of the car, slamming the door shut. He stopped when he saw them – stopped, Billy thought with a private smile – as if he'd just walked into a door. Bam!

Angel hadn't really believed it, even when Shanny had sat opposite him and handed over the little photo of Connor. There had to be some sort of mistake. How could his son be the father of Spike's grandchildren? It was ridiculous.

All he'd wanted then was for Shanny, with her remarkable resemblance to Buffy's mother, to leave. He'd told her, yes, OK, he'd do a little work on her problem and let her know the outcome. He thought he'd suggested that she didn't mention this to anyone, least of all her parents. Then, after she'd gone, with the feeling of her fingers warm against his, he'd shut himself into his room and sat, staring blankly at the wall, remembering…

He'd toyed briefly with the idea of contacting Connor, then dismissed it. If he had two grandchildren, he needed to see them. Whatever excuse he made to Buffy and Spike, he had to see them for himself. He knew that he would know. There surely had to be some resemblance to Connor, some family sense that he would know.

The thought of seeing Buffy again had made him hesitate, but not for long. He had a legitimate reason. Or rather an illegitimate one! After the splitting of the Shanshu prophecy between him and Spike, after he'd realised that the two people he still loved were destined to be together, he hadn't gone out of his way to stay in touch.

What was the point? They would age and die. He wouldn't. He could walk in the sunlight, Spike couldn't. Spike could father a child. Hell, Angel had already been there, done that, changed the diapers! He'd been first with Buffy and first to be a father. He could afford to make their lives easier by standing back and not getting involved.

When they'd become grandparents, he – yes, OK, he'd admit it – he'd been jealous. He and Buffy were the two who had planned fat grandchildren. OK, fat grandchildren who would never have been born, but even so…. The thought that Spike had beaten him rankled.

But now. He was a grandfather too! Of the same kids!

But even as he drove the hundreds of miles to visit the two people he knew he had to consult, he hadn't truly believed it. Not until he got out of the car and saw the children standing on the porch, watching him.

He found he was smiling. The girl had long blonde hair pulled back in two braids; sharp, greeny-hazel eyes. There was nothing of Connor in her looks. The boy, standing one pace behind her - yes, Spike's eyes but the fine blond curls weren't Spike's. Angel stared at the way the hair lay, the shape of Billy's head, the tilt of his chin. Oh God, his fingers could trace that chin, the line of that mouth, instinctively. He'd lain awake, night after night, gazing at them in adoration. He remembered drawing that face over and over again when -

Why in heaven's name hadn't Buffy and Spike seen the resemblance? Was it because the resemblance was slightly blurred on a boy? Were they both blind? Dru used to call her Grandmother, he remembered, wincing. He wondered with a shudder, how Darla would have reacted to being a real grandmother with a grandson who resembled her so much.

Upstairs, Buffy came out of the shower, towelling her short hair dry. She'd pulled on shorts and T-shirt and gazed in loving exasperation at where her lover lay, star-fished across the bed on his stomach, his pale skin banded with shade from the slats of the blinds inside the curtains.

"Are you getting up at all today?"

"Can't. You killed me, woman."

"No staying power, that's the trouble with vamps. Just because you're getting older and less – " She shrieked as a hand shot out and dragged her down onto the bed. Even after all these years, she tended to forget how fast he could react.

"No, you idiot – let me up. I've got to check on the twins."

"Come back to bed," Spike said drowsily. "What trouble can they get into in half an hour?"

Buffy kissed his shoulder and pulled herself free. "Knowing our witchy granddaughter, that is a very stupid thing to say," she commented. "I used to think Billy would keep her out of bad trouble, but if you're right about him, I don't think I can rely on that happening any more."

She sat down at the dressing-table and tried to brush her hair into some sort of order, wondering how she'd ever managed when it was long.

"Did Shanny say she'd be home tonight when the twins ring her and David?" Spike asked, sighing as he sat up and reached for his jeans.

"Nope. I told you, I never even got to speak to her. When Joyce tried to pass the phone to me, Shanny made some excuse to her and rang off. Typical. That girl thinks she can avoid any problem by running away. It drives me crazy! I think we're going to have to go and – what's up?"

She had turned to look at him because it was always weird speaking to an empty mirror. He was sitting on the side of the bed, head tilted to one side, an odd expression on his face – anger, affection, fear….

"Spike?"

"Can't you smell him? Sense him?" He vamped out briefly, then shimmered back to human face and nodded towards the window. "Check it out, Buffy. I think an old friend has come to call."

Puzzled, Buffy looked at him for a moment, then pushed the curtain and blinds aside and gazed down into the yard. The twins were sitting on the top porch railing, shoulder to shoulder, and standing facing them, looking stunned and bemused, the sun blazing down on his unprotected head, was a man she hadn't seen for over twenty years, her first love, Angel.

To be continued.


	8. Chapter 8  Nothing  Ever

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

The Story so far: Buffy and Spike married after the L.A apocalypse when the Powers That Be gave Spike half the Shanshu prophecy - he would age as a human and be able to father a child. While fighting the Demon Wars in Europe, Buffy gave birth to their daughter, Shanny. Much loved, but she grew up feeling unwanted because she was an ordinary little girl with no powers. Trying to keep her safe, her parents eventually sent her back to America to live. Rebellious and angry, Shanny had a one night stand with a man she met in a nightclub. The result was twins, Joyce and Billy. Now they are 8 years old and a problem. Joyce, a powerful little witch and Billy only just discovering what he is capable of doing. Shanny was determined to keep them away from her parents but has at last been forced to send them to Spike and Buffy because she can no longer control Joyce. But she now needs to know who their real father was. She goes to visit a detective that Willow has told her about- a vampire called Angel. But the little picture she shows him of the man she met nine years before freaks Angel. It is his son - Connor.

Chp 8: Nothing – Ever

"Have you come to see Granny and Grandad?" Joyce glanced up at the big man standing in front of her, staring down at her with such an odd expression on his face. He looked just like Billy had when they'd been about six and he'd tried to fly like her and fallen out of the tree instead.

The man had been smiling as he walked up the porch steps, then he'd seemed to look closely at them, his mouth had fallen open and he'd gone a very funny colour. "Granny? Buffy, er, yes. You must be - ?"

Joyce sighed, remembering that the very old sometimes had to be spoken to very slowly because they didn't always understand things at first. And somehow she knew this man was very old. "Hi, I'm Joyce Summers-Green. This is my brother, Billy. Have you come to see our grandparents?"

"Yes, he has." Buffy had opened the door and stood there, staring at them.

Angel turned, wishing he still had a pulse because he knew it would have been racing. Still slender, the long blonde hair now styled in a ragged feathered cut that suited the face that was older but even more beautiful. Life had taken away the fuller curves of her cheeks, but the satin sheen was still there, the greeny-grey eyes were just as large as she confronted him.

"Do you want to come inside? I can see that you don't need to, what with not sheltering from the sun and all."

"Hi, Buffy."

"Angel."

He waved his hand vaguely across himself. "Shanshu – or my part of it. I take it that these two are the end result of Spike's part of the prophecy?"

Buffy nodded. "We have a daughter, Shanny. But I expect you knew that."

Angel nodded. "I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee. Is Spike -?"

"Right here."

Billy noticed, with interest, that Granddad didn't come outside onto the porch but was standing behind Granny. He was bare-chested and bare footed and Billy reckoned he'd probably been in the shower when their visitor arrived. Except his hair wasn't wet, which was odd.

He pushed gently at Grandad's mind to find out why and winced as he felt as if his brain had just bounced off a hard brick wall. He mentally backed away and tried to avoid Grandad's piercing blue gaze.

"Joyce, Billy, why don't you go and play in the back yard?" Buffy said firmly.

Joyce was about to protest; she sensed there was something interesting going on, but, to her surprise, Billy grabbed her hand and tugged her around the side of the house, almost as if he was anxious to get away from the grown-ups.

Angel stood at the door, waiting patiently for Buffy to remember that he had to be invited. At last, Spike turned, snapped his fingers in irritation and said, "'Oh bloody hell! Come in for god's sake."

They sat around the kitchen table, staring at each other. Buffy glanced out of the window. She could see the twins swinging in he big tree. They were okay for now. She returned her gaze to Angel. It was hard to remember now her feelings for him all those years ago. He looked exactly the same, as if time had stood still. No, she was wrong. Not exactly the same. He was sun-tanned! How weird was that.

"Nice house. Been here long?"

"Since Europe," Buffy said.

"Ah, yes. You were busy over there."

"You could have come over, contributed the odd fang or two," Spike said dryly. "We could have done with the help. Might have shortened the War by a couple of weeks!"

He realised he was using the same sarcastic tone to Angel that he'd used during those months before the L.A. apocalypse, the time before the battle. His feelings towards his Sire had never been clear to him. One thing, however, was crystal; you could obviously love, hate, respect and despise someone all at the same time.

Angel shot a covert glance at the man who'd been his Childe, his nemesis, and his bitter rival for the woman sitting between them. Spike looked older, and he was astonished to realise that that upset him. William shouldn't have looked any different. For over a hundred years, this slight, cocky, belligerent guy had irritated, teased, destroyed and supported him. But all through everything, he'd looked the same.

This William's hair was longer, softer, still curly but with more of a gilt gleam to the colour than the harsh peroxide blond of years gone by.

Was there even the odd line on his forehead that hadn't been there before? Well, at least his body hadn't changed. Angel could still trace with his eyes the line of the muscles across his chest and shoulders, feel the tingle in his fingers that had once done just that.

"You seemed to be doing fine without me, and I was – out of action for a while after the L.A. apocalypse."

He wasn't going to tell them of the scars he still carried, of the months he'd spent unconscious, recovering deep under ground, until the day his senses returned and he realised that part of the Shanshu Prophecy had been given to him and that he could walk in the sunlight without dying.

"We were pleased you got some of the Prophecy," Buffy said now, her voice strained. "It wouldn't have been fair if – "

"If I'd copped for the whole lot!" Spike interrupted with a grin. "Never did much fancy daylight, anyway. And Shanny more than made up for it."

"Yes, Shanny. Your daughter." Angel hesitated. Driving up here from L.A. he'd gone over and over in his head exactly how he was going to approach this subject. He'd rehearsed the sentences, leading gently up to the subject or jumping straight in without any warning. But neither way seemed quite right.

He veered away from the problem. "So, cookie dough finished cooking yet, Buffy?"

"What?" Her puzzlement sounded quite genuine and with a wave of despair, he realised that she'd forgotten the words he'd clung to during all these years. A silly, girlish remark that he'd hugged to him like a talisman, thinking that yes, even if it was twenty or thirty years away, one day she would grow up completely, turn away from Spike and come back to him.

But she didn't even remember!

He watched as she stretched out a hand towards Spike and his fingers twined through hers without even looking.

"So, why the visit?" Spike asked suddenly as the pause grew longer and longer. "Passing by and decided after over twenty years to drop in on old friends and show off the suntan, which, by the way, does not suit you?"

"Spike!" Buffy's voice carried a caress and a warning at the same time.

"I came – Shanny – the twins – my god, Spike, can't you see who the boy looks like!"

"Shanny – what the hell are you talking about our daughter for?" Spike pushed his chair back and leant across the table, vamping out for a second.

"Why are you interested in the twins?" Buffy spoke at the same time and for a second Angel almost quailed beneath their joint attack.

He sighed and pulled out of his pocket the little strip of photographs that Shanny had given him. He laid it carefully in the middle of the table and Buffy and Spike bent over it, puzzled.

Four small photos, taken in one of those little booths found in clubs and malls. Two people were in the frames – the girl was sitting on the man's lap, her arm round his neck. They both looked – well, drunk was the only word you could use. Happy but drunk. The girl's top had slid down over one smooth shoulder and the guy was holding a bottle of beer in the hand that wasn't wrapped round her waist.

The first three snaps were fuzzy; it was difficult to see their faces clearly, the couple had obviously been laughing, moving as the camera fired. But the last shot was good. Heads together, they were staring straight into the lens.

"Shanny!" Spike said in horror, gazing down at the face of his daughter.

"But she's – this must have been taken years ago; she only looks seventeen – but how could she - oh God, no, her hair's long, she didn't have it cut until the twins arrived - she's only fifteen in this – so who is this guy? He isn't David." Buffy's mind was racing. Her gaze met Spike's and the answer to the question they'd been asking each other for days now was suddenly there in front of them.

Angel took a deep breath. He had gone this far; there was no turning back now. "I need to tell you both about a boy. I need to tell you about Connor."

"I wish we could go home!" Joyce was hanging upside down from a branch by her knees, swinging gently, her braids sweeping the grass.

"I thought you liked it here? Granny and Grandad understand much more about you being a witch than Mom and Dad do." Billy was sitting in the grass, putting little stones in the path of some ants that were trying desperately to cross the yard.

Joyce shrugged. "I know they do. And I do like it here. And the vampire stuff is cool. But I miss Mommy. Do you think if I promised never to do witchy things again, they'd let us go home?"

Billy pulled a face. "Could you keep a promise like that?"

Joyce swung harder, feeling the blood roaring in her head. "Sometimes it just happens, but most times I can choose what to do."

Billy didn't answer. His twin slid down from the branch, did a forward roll and ended up sitting in front of him. She stared at his blank face and shivered as she felt a wave of an emotion she didn't recognise course through her body. "Billy?"

"Hush a moment!" He flung out a hand.

"If you're listening to their thoughts, you'll get spanked. You know it's rude, except when it's us. Billy! Billy! Talk to me, what's going on? Billy, I'm getting scared. Talk to me, you stupid dumbass, or I'll…I'll…. change you into one of these ants!"

Then Billy's fingers found hers and she fell silent because she could feel what the emotions were now – anger, hatred and a terrible fear.

Spike had poured himself a Scotch and was leaning against the wall, sipping it slowly. Buffy wondered if it would help if she had one. She needed something to take away the falling sensation that surrounded her.

"OK, let's take this from the beginning," she said, worried by Spike's silence. "You had a son with Darla?" And we won't go into the being faithful to me, the girl you were supposed to wait for forever. Darla!

"Yes, I called him Connor."

"OK, and moving on past Wesley and the kidnap and Cordy and – well, everything – he was living in L.A."

"Having sex with my little girl!" Spike's voice was terrible. There was a note in it that Buffy had never heard before.

"And he and Shanny met – at some party – and – and –"

Eyes glowed golden as Spike vamped out and flung himself at Angel, but Buffy grabbed his arm and forced him back against the wall. She stared into his face without speaking but whatever he saw in her eyes caused Spike to hesitate and shimmer back into human face.

"So not helping!" Buffy snapped. "I'm not going to blame him. The picture shows us that Shanny looked about eighteen that night. And you say it was just that one night?" she asked Angel.

He hadn't moved an inch to defend himself; as if he would welcome the pain Spike could inflict. "All I know is what I've told you. She came to me because Willow had my card. She wants me to find this man."

"Did she tell you they'd slept together?"

"Not in so many words, but I'm not a complete fool. A woman with eight-year-old children asks you to find a guy she met nine years ago. It isn't because she leant him her favourite CD and wants it back! But I didn't really believe it, not until I got out of the car and saw Billy. God, Spike, how can you not see the resemblance? The shape of his head, his hair, the line of his jaw. He's Darla's grandchild. He's my grandchild! And Connor is their father. I have to tell him. He has to know."

Spike raised his head sharply. "No, David Green is their father. He's been their father from before they were born. You can't have them. Your son has nothing to do with them! Will never have anything to do with them. Do you hear me, Liam? Nothing – ever!"

And out in the yard, a little boy with odd powers, picked out one fact from the swirling emotions inside the grown-ups' heads. Someone wanted to take him and twin away from Mommy and Daddy.

Shanny Summers-Green had just washed her hair and was sitting on the open windowsill of her bedroom, letting the evening sun bathe her in welcome warmth. Down beneath her in the yard, David, her husband, was cutting the grass. Stripped to the waist, she could see the muscles rippling under his skin.

David had filled out considerably over the years. The skinny law student with the shock of black hair and dark eyes had turned into this good-looking, wide shouldered guy. A good husband and a great father. He looked up now at her, knowing as if by instinct that she was there, shaded his eyes against the sun and waved. "Come down and help," he called.

She laughed and shook her wet hair at him. "I've got to start cooking dinner and I want to speak to the twins before they go to bed."

"OK. Give them my love."

He turned back to the mower and she sat, watching him, wondering what he would say if he knew his son and daughter were not his. They had been fathered by a one-night stand between two drunken people. That his wife had lied to him so he would accept responsibility, marry her, become a dad before he'd even finished law school.

Shanny ran her fingers through her short brown hair. She hadn't heard from that Angel detective yet. He'd seemed fairly certain that he could track down the young man just from the photo she'd shown him. She'd felt she could trust him, even though he was a vampire. He'd known her parents way back and her Aunt Willow wouldn't have had his card if she hadn't felt he was okay.

She wandered back into her room. Why did she still feel it was so imperative that she knew something about the twins' real father? That it was important in understanding the powers Joyce possessed.

She picked up the photo from the top of the bookcase. Billy and Joyce, taken last year. They were sitting in the porch swing, eating ice-cream cones, pulling faces at the camera. Her nice, ordinary boy and her difficult, disturbing daughter whom she didn't understand and couldn't control. She loved them both to distraction.

Shanny put the photo down again. Had she been wrong in sending them to her Mom and Dad? She worried at a piece of skin round her thumbnail. David hadn't been pleased; he missed his kids. They'd had the first row they'd had for ages. He'd told her to remember how upset she'd been when Buffy and Spike had sent her to America to live with Willow's parents.

But that had been completely different, Shanny tried to convince herself. 'I was older and I wasn't any trouble. I didn't have any powers. I was just in the way in Europe! Mom and Dad never wanted me. The twins weren't in the way here. I wanted them. They're my whole life. But I didn't know what to do with them as they got older and Joyce started all that witchy business. I had no idea what to tell them, how to raise them properly. Well, Joyce, that is. Billy was never any trouble.'

She dried her hair, taming the curls to lie flat against her head in a style that made her look years older than twenty-four.

'David doesn't truly understand. Oh, he knows about witches and vampires and magic. You couldn't have Willow for a relation and me for a wife and not know. But to him it's like something you see on TV. Oh, your Dad's a vampire? Cool. Mine's a judge. Not so cool. The twins. Oh, Billy's fine and Joyce will grow out of it as she gets older. It'll be a neat hobby for her to have. Like Willow.'

Picking up the cross that she'd worn every day of her life, Shanny fastened it round her neck. She fingered the pattern on it, remembering with a mental wince the time she'd flung her arms round Dad's neck, the cross had flipped out from her T-shirt and burnt a mark on his cheek.

Dad had just laughed but Mom had been so angry, accusing her of being careless; she'd been six. Shanny shuddered; she'd tried not to hug her dad again.

"Darling David," she whispered. "Willow almost ended the world, so I was told. Some hobby. And she thinks Joyce is already far more powerful at witchcraft than she is!"

She glanced at her watch. She had to time her calls to the twins carefully. She was desperate to speak to them, but didn't want to talk to her Mom.

After they'd had supper and just before they went to bed was good. They would be indoors and she knew Joyce would rush to the phone as soon as it rang.

Shanny glanced at her watch again. She had the oddest feeling that she should ring now. Which was ridiculous. The last thing she wanted was to get into an argument with her mother, and this nervous cramping in her stomach, this feeling that her children were in some sort of danger was just plain ridiculous.

'Your just imagining things,' she told herself firmly. 'You know you don't have any sort of powers. And what danger could the twins possibly be in with a Slayer and one of the most powerful vampires ever known looking out for them?'

She would wait another ten minutes, she decided and forced herself to go downstairs. She was making lemonade for David when the phone rang and at her mother's first words, Shanny knew she would never ever again tell herself that her feelings about the twins didn't exist.

Because Buffy had said, her voice urgent and clipped, "Shanny, we've got trouble here. The twins have vanished."

Buffy looked up as she put the phone down. Spike and Angel were sitting on either side of the kitchen table, glaring at each other. She sighed silently. The old saying 'cut the atmosphere with a knife' didn't do this justice. She knew Spike was holding himself in check by the mere hair's breadth. As for Angel, his face was impassive, but a nerve was ticking away in his cheek and the hands laying on the wooden tabletop were curled into fists.

"What did she say?" Spike asked.

"She's driving up right away. I knew she would as soon as I told her. I still think we should have waited a bit longer for the twins to come back."

"I thought we agreed – " Angel began.

"Shanny's their mother! I can't stop her."

Buffy stood behind Spike and placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension in the coiled muscles. She knew him too well. He wanted to kill something, or someone, break, smash, hit out in some way. But there was no one to hit.

The last hour after they'd discovered the twins had vanished had been one of the worst of Buffy's life. The overpowering feeling of helplessness; the guilt; the despair. They had been in her charge, her responsibility. She had let Shanny down. Somehow she knew her daughter would blame her.

Angel took a deep breath he didn't need. "OK, let's try and think clearly. You say Joyce has gone "away" like this before? To other dimensions. So we reckon that's what she's done again, right?"

Buffy nodded. "Yes, not while she's been here, but Shanny's told us that's what often happens, especially if she gets upset. And she takes Billy with her."

"That's good, then," Angel said hopefully. "He seemed a sensible little guy; he'll keep them out of trouble."

Spike's voice was hoarse. "You don't know him. You've got him wrong. OK, you picked up that he looks a bit like Darla, but he's far more complicated than Joyce. He can read our minds and I think he's learning how to make us change them, too."

"Spike, I was with Darla for over a century. She could mess with your mind, sure. But not make you change it – well, not without a lot of physical persuasion!"

"You should never have come here," Spike growled, vamping out and back again as Buffy's hands tightened over his shoulders. "You should just have told Shanny you couldn't find the guy in the photos. If anything's happened to those children, my grandchildren, because of you – I'll, I'll – "

"My grandchildren, too!"

Spike swung his arm and set coffee cups and glasses smashing to the floor. "You! You didn't even know they existed until a few days ago. You've a sodding son you never see. Perhaps if you'd been a better father he wouldn't have been running around L.A. having sex with fifteen year olds. Although perhaps you think that's okay. I can remember a time you'd have slept with anything that moved, male or female. So don't you dare claim the twins as yours!"

"Well, Spike, from what I can gather, I had a better relationship with Connor that you and Buffy had with your daughter. Poor little kid. Born to you two. Trying to break into the magic circle, cut herself a slice of the love feast. I never shared my love for Connor. Never!"

"Stop it! Both of you." Buffy felt her head was going to explode, wished it would and then all this would be finished and done with. "Not helping. Not one bit. Spike, calm down. We don't even know that the twins vanishing act has anything to do with Angel's arrival. You know what Joyce is like. She might just have decided – oh, I don't know – wouldn't it be fun to go to Peru – or a world full of penguins – and just – gone!"

"Buffy's right. I reckon they'll be back as soon as they get hungry."

Spike stood up abruptly, hardly realising that he had shaken Buffy's hands away. He didn't understand why she wasn't freaking out. "They're nearly nine years old. OK, clever witch, clever whatever Billy is. But there are still all sorts of things out there that would snap them up in an instant, pet. You know that. We should have taken more care. Never let Angel see them!"

Buffy stared at him bewildered. He was being illogical. There was no proof this had anything to do with Angel. Why was he jumping to conclusions? She thought he'd got over this stupid jealousy of the other vampire with a soul. Jeez, she so did not need this.

"So you're blaming me for inviting Angel into the house?" she snapped. "Blaming me for whatever's happened to the twins?"

Dark blue eyes and dark brown both looked at her. Then Spike glanced away. He loved her so much but he sensed that right at this moment, just when they needed to be united, she was agreeing with her first lover. The tiny seeds of doubt and worry that had been planted in his mind when his Sire had arrived, began to sprout shoots of distrust. Had seeing Angel again made her realise she had made the wrong decision all those years before?

Angel hadn't aged, but with his part of the bloody Shanshu he could walk in the sunshine, lead a normal life. He didn't have to wait for dusk to go out. He was rich, had a penthouse suite in LA, probably a fancy swimming pool, fast cars. On the other side of the state, he and Buffy lived off the interest on the money they'd collected during the Demon Wars and what he won at poker. They had a tiny house, an old car and no pool. When she went to the mall during the day, she went alone.

"I don't think we took the problem seriously," he said at last, feeling his muscles ache with tension. "We treated them like children first, thought about their powers second. I think Shanny made the same mistake with them that we made with her. She sent them away from home. You cut that bond and you open the door to all sorts of sodding trouble."

Buffy felt a wave of guilt and buried it under a mountain of anger. "We didn't make any mistake with Shanny. We kept her safe. We were in the middle of a war, Spike, or have you forgotten? She was a normal little girl and we tried to keep her that way."

Spike gazed out of the window into the dark yard where the branches of the trees were swaying in the breeze that comes before a storm. As he watched, the lightning flashed, illuminating the lonely, empty yard. "We didn't do a very good job, then, did we?"

Sitting astride a big branch, Joyce stared down into the kitchen window. Billy was sitting with his back to the trunk, his eyes closed.

"You're still pushing and peeking at their thoughts. I'm going to tell," she said, but her words were automatic. She was worried about Twin. She'd tried to take them away somewhere nice when he said the big man with dark hair had come to get them, but Billy had stopped her, so she'd just made them invisible instead.

"I don't understand what's happening," Billy muttered in frustration. "They keep going on about Mom."

"Let's just go!" Joyce said. She was bored and it was going to rain any moment now. The thunder and lightning were coming closer and closer. "I'll just take us home and Mommy and Daddy can ring Granny and tell her. Then the big man can't get us."

Billy opened his eyes. "Granny thinks him Angel," he said at last. "But Grandad thinks him Liam."

"Whatever!"

Billy frowned. "Whoever he is, he knows Mommy. He calls her Shanny, like Daddy does."

Joyce bit her lip. She was getting tired. She wanted her supper and her hot chocolate and for Grandad to put all the little marshmallows in it. She reckoned Billy had got muddled. She bet the big man hadn't really wanted to take them away. That was stupid. Where would he take them that she couldn't get away from?

And keeping her and Twin invisible for over an hour was boring. The lightning flashed across the yard as she blinked hard a couple of times. There – now they were visible again. She jumped down off the branch and ran across the cool damp grass, ignoring her brother's angry shout.

She pushed her nose against the kitchen window pane and grinned at Grandad. Then a cold shiver ran across her skin, because Grandad, who was looking straight at her, ignored her. He couldn't see her at all!

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9  Just Children

**Future Imperfect by Lilachigh**

Chp 9 Just Children

From the west, great black clouds boiled and curled their way across a purple sky. Thunder growled and a flash of forked lightning spat down to earth. The wind was beginning to throw the branches around and toss leaves into the heavy air. It was turning into an evening when it was best to be safe indoors.

Billy Summers-Green slid down from the tree he was perching in, ignoring the pain in his hands and knees, every nerve in his body shouting – Twin – Danger – Lost. But – that was mega weird - she wasn't; he could see Joyce as plain as plain, standing there, peering in the kitchen window.

He reached for her with his mind as he ran across the grass but sheered away at the violent jumble of emotions that threatened to blot everything out in her mind and his. "What's up?" He grabbed her arm and spun her round. Her eyes were wide and blank, staring through him. Instinctively he pinched her arm hard.

"Ow!" Joyce shook his hand away, her eyes clicking back to normal and cross. She glared at him. "What did you do that for?"

"You'd gone away – without me!"

"No I hadn't, stupid. I was just thinking. Look – we're invisible!"

Billy frowned and gazed down at his dirty scratched hands. There was mud under his nails, a bright graze oozing blood across his knuckles where he'd slid down the tree too quickly. He stuck out his tongue at his sister and wriggled his fingers in his ears. "Oh yeah, look I'm the invisible boy. And you're – oh jeeze, Joyce – you're faaaaaaadddiiinnnngggg!"

Joyce kicked him on the ankle and he didn't even yell because now her mind was open to him again and he realised she was genuinely scared. And that terrified him because he'd never known his twin be frightened of anything in her whole life – except the funny coloured cereal Mom had insisted they ate when they were tiny until Joyce had sent it "away'" every breakfast time. That had been the first time she'd known what she could do if she wanted.

He reached out and grabbed her hand.

"We're invisible to everyone else, Billy," she whispered and her fingers felt very cold against his. "I tried to take us back to normal – honest – I thought I could. I always have before. Haven't I? But it just won't happen."

Billy stared at her, then pushed past and peered in through the window. He banged on the glass, but Granny, Grandad and the big dark man called Angel didn't glance up. They were busy arguing; Granny looked upset, Grandad had a weird expression on his face, as if he wanted to punch someone. The Angel man was sitting with his head buried in his hands. Perhaps he had a headache.

But whatever – none of them noticed as he thumped on the window again. He watched as Grandad pulled on his long leather coat, kissed Granny on the cheek and vanished out of the kitchen. He wondered if he was going for pizza. Billy realised he was hungry and needed his supper. Pizza would be great.

"We're not making any noise either," he said cheerfully, knowing that if he sounded scared that wasn't going to help Twin.

"Yes, that's crazy." Joyce started to look less worried and more interested.

Billy stared up at the sky. The thunderstorm that had been threatening all afternoon was now beginning to swirl overhead. "We can't stay out here. We'll get soaked. Are you sure you can't get us back? I'm hungry."

His twin nodded. She shut her eyes tightly and concentrated, but nothing happened. "I don't know why," she whispered. "Nothing's happening."

"Can you take us somewhere else? That world with the penguins? That was sort of cool. Or hey, you could move us to the pizza house and we'd meet Grandad there and tell him what we wanted. I hate those ones with little fish on them."

Joyce shook her head impatiently. Did Twin really think she hadn't thought of that herself? "It's as if I'm in a box. Every time I try and move us, I bounce off a sort of wall. And I'm hungry, too. I want a glass of milk and – " she pulled a face – "I need to go to the bathroom – bad!"

"Can we go indoors even though they can't see us?"

His sister stared at him, her eyes round and green. She watched as he tried to turn the door handle and failed. His hands couldn't grasp it. He was in the same 'box' she was in.

Just then there was a fizzing crackle of lightning, a roar of thunder and rain began to lash down. But the twins stood there, gazing up at the sky, completely dry.

Indoors, Buffy winced as the storm finally broke; the thunder rolled as she stared out at the rain-lashed yard. Water was running over the grass and the branches on the trees were bending nearly double in the wind. Oh God, if the twins were out in this, not under cover, they'd be soaked, cold and wet and scared. Where on earth had they gone?

Spike had insisted on going out to look for them as soon as it became overcast. He was certain he could scent them, follow their tracks as he had done for her so often in the past. She'd let him go, seeing the desperation in his eyes: she could feel his the pain mirroring her own.

She heard a step behind her and knew it was Angel at her shoulder. His hand touched her. "How can I help? Spike's scouring the streets. He's better at that than me and anyway, they know him. They might be scared if a stranger's calling for them."

"They're so small. Clever, bright, powerful but small," she said softly. "Angel, what the hell's happening?"

"Spike blames me for coming here, but Buffy, I had to. My grandchildren! You and Spike had Shanny, and I had Connor, but I never see him. The twins are a little part of me. How could I not want to meet them?"

Buffy eased herself away from his hand. The pleading in his voice took her back so many years. It was always the same with Angel, she thought drearily. At the end of the day it was all about him and his feelings. "You knew we had a daughter?"

Angel's face darkened. "I heard, yes. But you were in Rome, on the run, fighting a war. I didn't think a card or a bouquet of flowers was the right gesture."

Buffy shrugged. It was so hard to remember back to those frantic days when Shanny was born. The dark of the catacombs under the Roman streets, the endless killing, the screams as the demons died, her screams as she gave birth. All she could clearly remember was Dawn running ahead of her through a tunnel, the baby clasped in her arms and Spike guarding her back as she fought a battle with some tentacled Italian thing that stank of oregano.

Had she even given Angel a thought? The answer was no. He should still have sent a card!

"I won't let you upset the twins by telling them about Connor," she said suddenly. "David's their Dad. You can't just tell them he isn't and that really their father is the child of two vampires! Have you any idea what that could do to them?"

Angel flung himself down in a kitchen chair, his face dark and moody. "So you're on Spike's side in all this; I might have guessed! You want me to just go away and forget about them."

Buffy stared at him, her fists clenched. She had the strongest desire to punch him on the nose. "I want to find them first!" she snapped. "Angel, their mother's coming. Shanny will expect me to have the twins safe by the time she gets here. She's relying on me. And we're not going to find them by sitting around worrying about their parentage. If we don't find them it won't matter who their father is."

The front door crashed open and Spike stood there, water dripping off his duster, his hair plastered darkly against his skull. His face looked thinner and paler than usual; his eyes a burning blue that branded Buffy's soul as he looked at her.

"I can't find them, pet," he said, guilt and worry thickening his voice. "There's no scent anywhere."

"The rain – " Angel began.

Spike dismissed the words with a flash of vampire face. "It's not helping, but I'd still smell their tracks. There aren't any. It's as if they've vanished into thin air. God, Buffy. What are we going to tell Shanny?"

Buffy felt her heart shrink and turn over at the pain on his face. She felt a moment's pure panic, her mind scrambling in different directions.

She was worried - had they forgotten how to deal with problems like this? Their lives had been reasonably uneventful for years now. A few vampires and demons to stake, but otherwise they lived quietly, revelling in each other, in the love that they'd nearly lost so many times in the past. The biggest problem they'd had to face was Shanny's insistence that they had nothing to do with the twins. And even that situation had seemed to be easing with their arrival to visit and Shanny's desperate plea for her parents to talk to them about the whole vampire, witchcraft thing.

But now with the twins in danger, Spike seemed to be on the verge of breaking down and she knew she was little better.

She took a deep breath. She was still a Slayer, even if the amount of Slaying she did these days wasn't that great. She would tackle this problem like she had always done in the past – head on, with the man she loved at her side.

She reached out and clasped his cold wet fingers, forcing him to look at her. "Listen, Joyce has done this disappearing act before, we were told that. But I've got no idea how long she usually stays away. Perhaps this is normal. Don't forget, sweetheart, this is why Shanny sent them to us in the first place. She can't control Joyce's witchy antics."

Spike's grip tightened convulsively. He couldn't remember when he had last been so scared. He didn't think Buffy really understood. The twins were eight years old and lost. The vampire population in town wasn't that great – and most of the demons had left when Buffy moved into the neighbourhood – but there were still enough nasties about to snack on Joyce and Billy, no matter how strong and clever they were.

And what was worse was something he could never tell her. Having a daughter, having Shanny, had been the final miracle, the unexpected part of the Shanshu that had made all the rest fade into insignificance. Growing old with Buffy was marvellous – bloody hell, even being back together after the L.A. apocalypse was fantastic – but Shanny! His own flesh and blood, his and Buffy's. So small, so delicate, so precious.

Had he been the best father he could be? Doubts raged now through his brain. Yes, they'd been fighting a War and there hadn't been any time for playing games, or teaching lessons. Not even time to walk through the woods on a dark evening, listening for owls or nightingales. He loved Shanny to the point of desperation and although it had almost killed him, he'd agreed with Buffy that she needed to go to America, to get her out of the battle zone.

Then when she'd had the twins, he'd been horrified and angry and upset that his little girl was now a mother. But he'd liked David Green and admired the way he stood by Shanny and accepted his responsibilities.

Then had come Shanny's insistence that he and Buffy had nothing to do with the twins. And her decision had snapped some thread deep inside him that had been growing stronger and stronger since the Shanshu. He'd realised then that having a soul meant you were vulnerable to the type of pain he'd never felt when he was without one.

When Shanny had sent the twins to them to look after, he'd felt that this was a fresh start for them all. Bloody hell, he'd even imagined that Shanny would forgive them for whatever crimes she thought they'd committed and they'd all live happily ever after!

God, he needed a drink. There was no fool like a vampire fool.

He looked at his lover now and could read all the fears she was resolutely refusing to admit. She'd gone into Slayer mode – and he admitted that it was a long time since he'd seen that particular expression on her face. The problem was – as it always would be – once the Slayer took over, he couldn't truly be her partner, no matter how much she wanted him to be.

And on top of all that – here was his Sire back in their lives. Liam, with his expensive clothes, fast car, luxury life style. A man he'd once loved – who'd loved his woman – who'd apparently never given up hoping that one day she would be his. Liam who apparently had just as much right to be the twins' grandfather as he did. And who knew, maybe they'd love him more. Dru had. Fred. He'd even wondered about Harmony all those years before.

Buffy looked at Spike, her eyes sharp and questioning. She sensed something was wrong besides his terror over the twins. What the hell was it?

Outside in the yard, Billy and Joyce sat on the porch steps, side by side, watching in fascination as the rain fell on them and around them and didn't make them wet.

"What are we going to do?" Joyce asked. "I really need the bathroom, Billy. Like, right now!"

"Go behind a tree. I did."

Joyce pulled a face. Boys could do that. Girls didn't. It wasn't fair. "I'll just wait."

Billy sighed and stood up. "Come on, over here, behind the trees. Go pee! You'll wet your jeans and then there'll be real trouble."

They moved a few yards together then Joyce vanished behind a bush. Billy threw his mind towards the people inside the house, but it was all noise and anger and upset. The Angel man was causing one big row; he'd never known Granny and Grandad be so upset with each other, so perhaps it was a good thing he and Joyce weren't indoors to have to listen to it.

Billy stared around the yard and shivered. It was getting colder and sort of misty even though it was raining. "Come on, Twin!" he yelled. "Hurry up! We've got to think what to do."

He flashed to Joyce's mind, which he knew was wrong because when someone had gone to the bathroom, that was a private sort of thing. And then he froze. A tiny little voice was whispering, "Billy! Billy! Billy!" over and over again inside his head.

"So do we keep searching?" Inside the house, Angel spoke to try and ease the tension between the couple in front of him. He had no idea why they were glaring at each other, but he knew Spike from old and he could start an argument in an empty room. He didn't know how Buffy had put up with him all these years.

"I mean, couldn't they just be sheltering from the storm at a neighbour's house? Or gone down to the mall? We don't know for sure that witchcraft is involved."

"If you want to go and play big detective, go ahead, Sherlock," Spike snapped, crossing the room, throwing off his duster and pouring himself a Scotch. "I suppose that's what you spend your life doing. And charging top dollar for it as well."

Angel glared. "At least I'm living in an apartment that has a view and a pool. I don't see either round here, Bleach Boy."

The whisky glass flashed across the room and smashed on the table, just missing Angel's head.

"Oh that's just great!" A cool voice snapped from the front door. "My children are missing and you three are having a fight."

Shanny had arrived.

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10  Points of View

**Future Imperfect** by Lilachigh

Chp 10 Points of View

With his twin's voice still calling for him inside his head, Billy raced across the yard. He pushed through the bushes where Joyce had gone. She was standing very still, gazing intently into the darkness outside the bubble they were living inside.

"What's up?" he thought to her.

"Look – can you see her?"

"Who?" He peered in the direction she was looking, but all he could see were branches waving in the wind and rain spurting up from the ground in muddy gouts.

"That funny looking woman."

Billy mentally shook his head. "There's no one there. You're dreaming."

His twin didn't reply and a twinge of fear ran through him. He searched inside her mind and it was cold and scared. With a spasm he didn't understand, he broke through the cold wall and shook her. "Wake up!"

Joyce flinched as the pain in her head bit hard. She turned and punched him on the arm. "Ouch! Don't do that. And I am awake," she said out loud. "She was there. She's got paint on her face. And she was beckoning to me."

"You're not allowed to talk to strangers unless Mom or Dad are with you," Billy said piously.

"I know that, poop-face. I wasn't going to talk to her, was I?"

Billy tugged at her arm. "You're silly enough to see her, so I 'spect she's another witchy person. Was she inside this bubble thing you've got us stuck in?"

Joyce shook her head slowly. "No, that's what's really weird. She was just crouching there, under the trees in Granny's yard. Beckoning to me."

Billy shivered. He wasn't wet but he was getting colder and colder. "Can't you get us back home yet?"

Joyce screwed up her face in an effort of concentration, but nothing happened. "No," she whispered.

Billy was about to tell her she was a useless witch when he stopped, tilted his head to one side and groaned. "Oh jeez. Now we're in trouble."

"What?"

"Mom's just arrived!"

Shanny Summers-Green stood in the doorway, outlined by the pouring rain, staring at the three arguing figures in front of her. She'd expected her parents to be there, of course, but the sight of the detective vampire called Angel whom she'd hired to find the twins' biological father was a shock.

"Shanny! Sweetheart!" Spike was the first to react. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms for a hug.

Buffy started to move, to join them, then hesitated: she and Shanny had never had a touchy-feely relationship and she could see from the way Shanny leant away from Spike as if she hated his touch, the averted head, the arms hanging still at her sides, that her daughter was not going to respond in any way to her father that could be called loving.

And she knew only too well that Spike would be shattered all over again by Shanny's rejection. She adored her daughter with a depth of love that surprised her every time she thought about it, but when she hurt Spike, Buffy felt she almost hated her.

Her husband was in an odd mood tonight, apart from the trouble with the twins. In fact, he'd been odd ever since Angel arrived. Which she supposed was to be expected, but surely he didn't still feel jealous of a man she hadn't seen for over twenty years?

Or was it just the revelation that Angel's son Connor was the twins' father that had caused all the tension she could feel coming off Spike in waves?

She watched as Shanny pulled herself out of Spike's embrace…..

Shanny eased herself away from her dad, scared that the cross she was wearing would burn him as it had done all those years ago when she was tiny. She'd never really understood her parents' logic – to give her something to defend herself against the very thing her father was.

"Dad. Mom. Hello again, Angel. I didn't expect to find you here."

"Shanny." Angel nodded, looking awkward. He was struck all over again by her resemblance to her grandmother. She wasn't as tall as Joyce Summers and although her eyes were Buffy's, the sweetness of her smile had been inherited from someone with a gentler outlook on life. "I…I needed to speak to your folks and – well – "

"That can all wait," Buffy broke in impatiently. "Shanny – come in – close the door – you're letting in the rain. It's lovely to see you, but we can catch up later. First we need to find the twins!"

Shanny obeyed, instinctively following instructions. Hide, Be Quiet, Keep Down, Run. All orders that she'd heard and learnt from her mom before she could even speak herself.

"So Mom, you've managed to lose the twins already. I can't even say I'm surprised. It was one of the reasons I sent them to you, remember? I can't control them – or rather I can't control Joyce. Billy's fine. But I must admit I thought you'd manage to keep them in line for a bit longer than a few days. You used to be so good at ordering kids around."

Buffy bit her lip. She stared at the small, expressionless woman in front of her and found it hard to believe that this passionless person had given birth to a powerful witch and a boy whose powers had yet to be fully discovered. She seemed so distant, as if nothing and no one could hurt or bother her. Even now she was acting as if the twins vanishing was a mere inconvenience.

Did she truly not understand what horrors could be out there, lurking, waiting to feast on two small children? Had her early education all been forgotten? Buffy felt the familiar flick of impatience strike through her again. How on earth had she and Spike managed to produce this miracle daughter who was also a child who seemed so unaware, so divorced from the world her parents lived in?

Shanny twisted her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. The tension in her body made her ache but she was determined to stay calm. She could just imagine her mom's reaction if she started crying and yelling and getting emotional.

Of course that was exactly what she wanted to do – lay on the floor, drum her heels and shout until someone found her babies! But she wouldn't. She'd learnt self-control from an expert.

She was surprised that even after all these years, her mom didn't look any different, except for the very short hairstyle. She wondered why it had been cut: she could remember when she was very, very small, lying in a bed in a corner of a room, watching her dad brush the long, gold length over and over again, then tilting her mom's face up to his. Shanny could almost hear again the tenderness in the tone of his voice as he bent to kiss her mother

"The twins have disappeared, Shanny," Spike said wearily. "I can't sense them anywhere." He had noticed with a bitter sinking sensation that she smiled warmly at Angel, as if he were an old, trusted friend. But she obviously couldn't bear Spike to touch her.

Shanny sat down at the kitchen table, nodding her thanks as Buffy poured her a mug of coffee. "I don't expect they're anywhere nearby. Joyce can take them to other universes, parallel dimensions, you name it, if it's inhabited by fluffy animals or weird creatures, she'll go there."

"We know. You've told us all that," Buffy said sharply. "But they've been gone a long time."

"How long are they usually away?" Angel asked and Shanny turned towards the big man, glad of the friendliness in his voice.

"It depends – minutes, usually. Sometimes hours. Once a whole day. I've told Joyce not to do it. And she will insist on taking Billy with her. She makes me so angry. She just doesn't think!"

Spike frowned. "For all you know, Billy might be the one suggesting they run off. Did you know he can read minds?"

Shanny placed her coffee mug carefully on the table, lining up the handle with the spoon, edging the sugar bowl and milk jug into a neat square. "No, I didn't, Dad. Are you sure?"

Spike nodded. "Joyce and Billy are as bad and as marvellous as each other but in different ways. I reckon – bloody hell, sweetheart – I think he might be able to make you change your mind, alter how you think!"

"That could be – inconvenient."

Buffy smacked down a plate of tuna salad in front of her daughter. The girl was skin and bone. "Eat – you must be hungry. Are you on some stupid diet? You're far too thin. And don't be sarcastic to your father. It's far more than inconvenient. It's dangerous. How do we get them back?"

Shanny picked up a fork and rearranged the food on her plate. She tried not to sigh. This was the first time she and her mother had met in years and she was already trying to control her life. And her mom's cooking – if you could call a salad cooking – was dreadful. Her dad's was far better.

"They'll come back when they're bored, like always."

Angel and Spike exchanged a look automatically, then both of them turned away, irritated that centuries of habit had kicked in so effortlessly.

But they knew she was wrong. Something – instinct, vampire sense, whatever - was telling them that this time it was different.

And Angel was pretty sure that Shanny was trying so hard not to involve her parents that she was losing sight of the big picture. "Shanny – listen to me – " he began.

"Why did you need to come all this way to speak to my parents?" she interrupted, her gaze very like Buffy's at her most Slayerish.

Angel glanced at Spike, then at Buffy, who glared back at him. "Later," she said.

Shanny frowned. "No, now."

"Sweetheart, we need to get the twins back first." Spike sat down next to her, his face drawn.

Shanny ignored him. There was something secret going on here; something that they didn't want her to know. All three of them. "The twins will be OK. Joyce will bring them home soon and then perhaps you can find a way of stopping her doing that again. Now, please, Angel. Tell me what's going on. Is it about their father?"

"David is the twins' father," Buffy said quietly.

Shanny stared up at her. "Of course he is, in everyway except one. Their biological father got me pregnant at a party when I was fifteen. I gave Angel a picture of him. And from the lack of horror on your face, Mom and Dad, you know all this already."

"It's complicated," Angel began.

"Be quiet!" Buffy hissed fiercely, coming to stand behind Spike, her hands on his shoulders. "She doesn't need to know."

"Oh great, Slayer. That's really going to make Shanny stop asking questions!"

Spike leapt to his feet, vamping out. "Do what Buffy wants!"

To Shanny's surprise, Angel vamped out, too, roaring, "Everything isn't about you and Buffy, William! I have rights, too."

"Rights? What bloody rights have you got? You arrive here in your posh car, flaunting your expensive watch and leather jacket – and bloody hell, who wears dark blue leather these days! Ponce!"

"At least I've got money. Made something of my Shanshu. What have you got? Poxy little house in the middle of nowhere. Furniture that looks as if it's come from a goodwill shop. An old car that's probably off the road more than on. And what about Buffy – when did she last have pretty things to wear, go on vacation?"

"Angel! Spike!"

"Bastard!"

"Cretin!"

"Stop it! All of you." Shanny banged on the table and they fell silent. "Angel – just tell me – do you know who that boy is in the photo?"

There was a long silence, then Angel ran his fingers through his hair and said, glaring at Spike, "Yes, he's my son. His name is Connor."

Outside in the yard, Joyce banged both her hands against the window, trying to make her mom turn and look at her. But although she tried, the glass wouldn't break and no one turned to see what the noise was. She knew they were still invisible; she couldn't get them out of the bubble.

"Mom's very angry," Billy said suddenly.

"Can you hear her thinking cross, even through the bubble?"

He shook his head. "No, just by looking at her face. She's cross and upset with granny and grandad and the Angel man."

Joyce bit her lip. "I want to go home. I want to have a hot chocolate with marshmallows and watch TV. I hate it out here. I want mommy."

"Well, get us back then, stupid."

His twin frowned and then an expression crossed her face – one that Buffy would have known only too well. It was identical to the one Spike often had when he thought up a plan that was sure to go drastically wrong.

"I can't get us out of the bubble, Billy, but I bet I can bring them all inside it with us!"

tbc


	11. Chapter 11   One to Go

**Future Imperfect by Lilachigh**

Chp 11; One to go

The story so far: I would suggest new readers caught up first because a lot has happened. Briefly, Spike and Buffy are together, twenty odd years since L.A. Apocalypse. Spike and Angel were given half the Shashu each. Spike's half meant he would age as a human and could also father a child, their daughter Shanny. But as much loved as the child was, she was born in the middle of the European Demon Wars and had a traumatic upbringing, especially for a little girl who was ordinary with no powers at all, Sent back to America, she fell pregnant at 15 to twins, Joyce and Billy. Their father was an older guy she met in a nightclub. She told David Green, Willow's cousin, that he was the father and they married when she was 16. But Shanny was determined that her parents would have nothing to do with the twins - which could never end well, especially as Joyce turned out to the a witch, one so powerful that she scared Willow! When the twins are 8, Shanny sends them to her parents in despair, hoping they can tame Joyce. But Spike discovers Billy has powers of his own - he can read minds and is just beginning to realise he can control people. Meanwhile, Shanny decides to discover who their real father was. And it turns out to be Connor, the son of Angel and Darla. When Angel realises, he rushes to see the children. Spike is furious, Buffy confused and the twins are stuck out in the yard in an invisible bubble Joyce has made. And a dark skinned woman with a painted face is beckoning to her from the darkness. Oh and Joyce has just realised that although she cannot find a way of getting them back indoors she can bring the grownups outside!

Told you it was complicated!

Billy, who'd happily realised you could bounce off the sides of the invisible bubble like a trampoline, skidded to a halt and stared at his twin.

"You reckon you can bring everyone out here? Inside the bubbly thingy with us? Okaaay. But what for?"

Joyce nodded. "I want Mom. I want to tell her I didn't mean to stay out this long and annoy everyone. I can't get us out of the bubble but I can bring them inside it."

Billy shrugged: he knew just how much Joyce irritated their mother. He didn't need to read her mind to see that. But wow, he could just picture his mom's face if she arrived and discovered she was trapped too.

Joyce glanced sideways at him; she could sense he wanted to say something. "I mean, she can't be that cross with me, can she?"

"She can't ground us, but she might make us go home if we ever get out of here and don't staaarrrvvve toooo deeaattthhh. Do you want to leave Granny and Grandad?"

Eyes shut tight, Joyce considered. Home was nice and she missed Daddy and Mommy, even if she was always in trouble there. But here – here was sort of exciting in a way she hadn't experienced before. Here – she knew was where something was waiting for her. She had no idea who or what, but deep down she was certain that she had to stay here to find out. It was important.

She peered over her shoulder at the dark wet trees at the end of granny's yard. The dark skinned woman with the painted face wasn't there, but Joyce had a funny feeling that she hadn't gone far. "Okay, p'raps I'll talk to Mommy a bit later."

Billy nodded, wondering why she hadn't felt the push he'd given her inside his head to make that decision. "Can you get the dark-haired man out here?"

Joyce looked at him curiously. "The Angel man. Yes, I reckon so. Why him? You said earlier that he wanted to take us away!"

"Not take us away. Not quite that. But it was something to do with us. That's why they're all arguing. I don't know. I just feel that something's going on that we don't understand and I might find out from him."

His twin rolled her eyes at him. "OK, boy detective, but it'll only be stupid grown-up stuff. Nothing exciting."

There was silence inside the house following Angel's confession to Shanny that his son was the twins' father. Buffy reached out blindly towards Spike and found his hand there waiting; cold, strong, comforting. She wanted to say something, anything, to wipe that stunned look from her daughter's face. Well, first she wanted to hit Angel over the head several times with the biggest, heaviest stone she could find, but that could wait.

But what could she say to Shanny? Don't worry, you weren't made pregnant by some young American guy from a good family, oh no, you slept with the son of two vampires who between them laid waste to half of Europe and Asia! Obviously a real prince.

Spike was fighting with every bone in his body not to vamp out and sink his fangs into Angel's throat. They'd pleaded with him not to tell her – but oh no, whatever Angel wanted to do, he did, regardless of the consequences. Some things in life never changed.

Having part of the Shanshu obviously hadn't given him any more understanding of human feelings. Oh he had the fine car, great clothes – Spike would have killed for the dark blue leather jacket – money and the ability to walk in the sun. But he was still bottom of the league when it came to other people's feelings.

What was worse, Spike could sense Liam's bewilderment. After all these years, the link between them – even if it was worn thin as a silken thread – still remained. Liam had no frickin' idea of the damage he had just done. No, he was sitting there, all hurt and brooding and emotional, surveying the fall-out of his earth-shattering statement, wondering why everyone had gone so quiet.

But Spike refused to feel sorry for him. He had a son, okay, big deal. Spike had a daughter and Angel had caused the stunned, bereft expression that had crossed her face before the usual bored look took over once more.

Shanny Summers-Green realised that the silence was making her ears hurt. Which was odd, because usually she liked things to be quiet and calm.

She couldn't look at her parents: just talking about the whole getting pregnant when fifteen scenario freaked her out. She could sense the anger coming off her dad in great waves and her mom had that tight-lipped, white-faced expression which meant she was furious, desperate to batter something into dust. Shanny had no doubts that the object of Buffy's anger was her. It usually was.

Instead she looked at Angel, the vampire detective, searched his face for any small resemblance to the twins. But there was none. Except – she almost laughed - his bottom lip was stuck out and when Joyce sulked, hers did, too.

"Connor?" she said carefully. "That's nice. I never knew his name. Where is he now?"

"Sweetheart – you don't need to talk about this." Spike was on his feet, prowling around the room. "David is the twins' father. Not this ponce's bastard."

Angel leapt to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. "Don't call him names! Darla and I were together for more years than most married couples and she died so he could live."

"Darla! Oh yes, why didn't I think of her. Mad psychopathic Darla. The twins would have enjoyed having her as their grandmother. Pity she's not still with us – she could give them lessons on how to torture a victim for three days so that every minute is full of pain! And I expect her son is just like her. Rotten to the core."

With a roar, Angel flung himself at Spike, vamping out, the two bodies crashing to the ground in a flurry of growls and flying fists and feet.

"Mom! Stop them. What the heck is Dad doing?" Shanny shouted.

"Exactly what I feel like doing," Buffy snapped.

"Mom, please. I can't stand it," Shanny yelled over the noise, skipping to one side as a table vanished under their bodies in a shower of splinters.

"And that is plain stupid!" Buffy said and leapt forward to grab Spike and pull him away, clear of the murderous wooden shafts.

"Calm down. You might have some of the Shanshu, but you're not invincible to pointy stakes. Not like Angel."

Spike's golden eyes glared at her as he struggled in her grasp, but slowly the fire died and he shimmered back into human face.

"Dad, please stop fighting. I don't care about this Darla. All I want to know about is Connor. I want to understand why the twins are as they are."

"They're - ! " But the sentence was left hanging in empty air as, without a sound or warning, Angel vanished.

" – my grandchildren!" he finished and realised to his astonishment he had landed in a heap in the yard, that a storm was raging but where he was sprawling the ground was quite dry and two small blond figures were peering down at him.

"Oh, have you got grandkids, too?" Joyce asked. "Do they live round here? Perhaps they could come over and play sometime. Ouch!"

She winced as Billy kicked her mentally. 'How stoopid can you be?' his voice hissed inside her head. 'Last kids who came and played, you scared so silly they had to go to a special head doctor!'

"Hi," Angel said feebly, struggling to sit up. "Did you bring me out here?"

Joyce nodded. "I can't get twin and me back indoors," she confided. "Is our mom very cross?"

"Shanny? Er, no, not so much. Everyone's worried because they can't find you."

"We're invisible," Billy said. "And now you are, too."

Angel put a hand to his head. He felt weird, as if someone was walking around inside his brain. He got to his feet, put out a hand, then pulled it back as he felt something he couldn't see bend beneath the pressure. "We're in a bubble!"

Billy wondered if this guy was as smart as he seemed to be. Of course they were in a bubble. Otherwise they'd be getting soaked in the rain that was still falling.

"It's just a Joyce thingy," he explained slowly. "She'll work out how to get rid of it soon, I 'spect. Don't be frightened."

Angel bit his lip and slid down the invisible wall to sit, looking at the twins. Frightened? That didn't even begin to describe how he felt. Terrified witless was a better description. His grandchildren! These were his flesh and blood. Connor's kids. It was unbelievable – as if the Powers that Be had handed him down an enormous gift, casually, almost as if it didn't matter.

Connor's children. He said it again under his breath. The girl – well, he wouldn't have known. She wasn't particularly pretty, and okay, blonde hair and green eyes, but she didn't look like Buffy or Connor or even Shanny, her own mother. If anything the tilt of her shoulders and the way she was standing reminded him of Spike. No, he would never have thought she was kin.

But the boy, Billy. Angel swallowed hard as he stared once more at a young version of a face that had haunted his dreams for centuries. Apart from the blue eyes, which he'd inherited from Spike, there was Darla looking back at him. That slight curve to the mouth – was he smiling or just thinking something wicked? Oh god, if he had seen Billy in the middle of a hundred children, he would have known.

He winced and rubbed at his forehead. There was that odd sensation again.

"Who's Connor?" Billy asked casually. "Oh, he's one of your grandkids?" He paused, a fleeting look of puzzlement in his eyes. "No, he's your own boy, isn't he?"

"How did you know about – " He stopped abruptly, remembering something being said about Billy being able to read minds. But that was ridiculous. He was only nine. Angel had been defending his mind against magic and demons for years. It wasn't likely that a mere child could have read his thoughts.

No, he reckoned that the twins had heard one or two words from the argument inside the house. Lord knows it had been loud enough. And he blamed Spike for that.

He glanced across to Joyce who seemed completely disinterested in the conversation. She looked weird, as if she was leaning into thin air, but he knew she was balanced against the barrier, staring out at the end of the yard where the tree branches shook in the wind and the shrubs bent to the earth as the rain hissed down.

This was his chance to tell them the truth, while they were alone with him. He had the feeling she was about to bring someone else here. Should he tell them?

Angel gazed hungrily at the two small people who, in some way, belonged to him. Why should he be denied the chance of them loving him? Was Spike to have everything? He'd got Buffy, had a daughter – and lost her, if what Shanny had told him was true - and now he had grandchildren. All he had himself was a son he never saw. The Shanshu had been shared. So why shouldn't the rewards be shared as well?

Inside the house, Buffy stood outside her bedroom door, hesitating, which was ridiculous because the man she loved was inside and why on earth should she be worried about speaking to him?

After Angel had vanished, Shanny had just shrugged, as if this was what she had been expecting. She'd said, "Joyce! God. That kid!" in exasperated tones.

Buffy knew she had to explain as briefly as possible how they all knew each other. Spike didn't say a word as she talked, which raised her sense of unease to red alert status.

Shanny had said nothing; she just started to clear up the mess the vampires' fight had made. Buffy watched, suddenly remembering with a sad little tremor, a small girl trying to wipe demon blood off her story books when a fight had exploded into the room where she'd been trying to learn to read.

"Leave that for now."

"Mom, you can't leave a mess like this. Don't look so worried. This is just Joyce playing games."

"But why did she take Angel? Why not you or me or your Dad?"

Shanny sighed: physically and emotionally exhausted, she wished David were here. Her quiet, ordinary husband. No special powers, but nevertheless he gave her strength. He had an inner calm, an ability to make problems seem small and insignificant before he dealt with them.

In all their ten years together, she'd never seen him lose his temper, fight, smash up a room or try to kill someone who was, apparently, one of his oldest friends. Goodness, what a dull life her parents must think they lived!

"You realise Angel might tell the twins about his son being their real father," Buffy said.

Shanny glanced at her sharply. Her mom seemed different, sharper, more alert, ready for action. As if the patina of happiness, of quiet living, had been stripped away and there was the Slayer of Shanny's childhood.

"Surely he wouldn't do that without my permission. I know he was a vampire, but you've already explained that he has a soul. I get that he was given the other half of the Shanshu prophecy. So he isn't a monster, Mom, whatever history you and Dad have with him. And thank heavens he isn't, as it appears he is the twins' grandfather!"

Spike flinched as if one of the wooden shards from the broken table had pierced his chest. He turned, walked up the stairs and they heard the bedroom door slam behind him.

"Why is Dad so upset?" Shanny asked as she swept up the last piece of broken wood. "I suppose it's because of me sleeping with Connor, not knowing him and all that."

Buffy tensed. There was so much she could have said, shouted to her daughter. She wondered if Shanny would have remained so calm if she'd known her mother had killed Angel once, sent him to Hell? Or that he'd been her first lover, indeed, her first love? She wondered if she could ever explain Angelus

"Jealous vampire crap."

Shanny looked up, horrified. "Jealous – you don't mean you and Angel. Mom!"

Buffy tried to stop her lips twitching. Finally she'd broken through Shanny's barrier of reserve, although perhaps not quite as she'd hoped. Obviously like all children, the thought of her parents "doing it" and "doing it with someone else" was alive and well and flourishing.

Now she pushed open the bedroom door and went in. It was very dark. The window was wide open and the wind and rain lashed in, soaking the carpet.

Spike was sitting on the window seat, gazing out into the yard where trees and bushes danced in the storm. He didn't look up as she came in.

Buffy put her hand on his shoulder. His T-shirt was soaked; rainwater was running down his face. She shook him. "Spike? What's the matter? Talk to me?"

"Nothing to say, pet."

"Jeez, what the hell does that mean?"

He turned slightly and the expression she could see in his eyes made her heart freeze. He looked – empty – lost.

"You can't surely still be jealous of Angel. I won't believe it. Sorry, we haven't got time for this nonsense. After all we've been through together, you know I love you and not him!"

Spike reached out and gently traced the contours of her cross face. "You think you do, sweetheart. But now, tonight, I'm not so sure. I think I'm losing you, Buffy. And perhaps, in the end, that won't be such a bad thing for you, Shanny or the twins."

tbc

Author's Note: Be glad to know if you are still enjoying the story.


	12. Chapter 12   Not Perfect

**Future Imperfect** by Lilachigh

Chp 12: Not Perfect

Buffy closed her eyes, letting her skin soak up the sensation of those hard, clever fingers tracing the contours of her face, almost as if – her eyes flashed open! – as if Spike was never going to touch her again.

She reached up, captured his hand and held it in a Slayer's grip. "Why on earth would you think losing you would be good for me and Shanny?"

Another gust of wind sent a splatter of rain into the room through the open window. Spike didn't even flinch. " You heard Shanny just now, pet. When she was talking about Angel. She likes him! She's my daughter but it's bloody obvious which of us she thinks would make the better grandfather for the twins. And how do I tell her what he's done? What he was? It'll just sound as if I'm trying to score points."

He tried to pull his hand free but Buffy just tightened her grasp.

"And me? How would it be better for me if you weren't here?" she said, refusing to be sidelined by a discussion about Spike and Angel's relationship.

Spike shrugged. "Come on, Buffy! In all sorts of ways. When was the last time you went swimming? Well, in daylight, anyway. Or sat in the yard on the swing and felt the sun on your face? Oh, I know, you've done things on your own, but even I can see that it would be better for you to share them with someone else. And Angel's always going to be there, in your mind, in your thoughts. Dru felt the same."

"What!" Buffy's shriek was louder than the stinging slap she landed on his face. Still without letting go of his hand – she had the terrified feeling that if she did, he would vanish out into the night – she forced him to look at her.

"How dare you! You miserable, good-for-nothing excuse for a husband. How – dare – you! If I didn't love you so much, I'd walk out of this house and never come back. Do you really think so little of me, after all these years? Me and Angel? Again, already! God, it gets beyond old. All this jealousy crap. And Dru? You have the nerve to compare me and my feelings to your mad ex? Just because she got the hots for Angel each time she saw him, you reckon every woman is the same? Words fail me!"

Spike massaged his jaw with the hand that wasn't being slowly crushed to pieces. Bloody hell, he'd forgotten just how much pain the Slayer could inflict when she wanted. It had been a very long time since she'd hit him properly. "You seem to have plenty of words left, pet."

"Yes, I have words! Lots and lots of words. Big ones, clever ones, angry ones and I'm just about to sharpen them all and send them hurtling towards your head."

"Buffy – "

"No – don't Buffy me. And stop making that hangdog expression with your eyes. I – am – angry! Look – " she held out her left hand and waggled her fingers under his nose. "Look – on my finger – one ring, round, gold, marriage for the use of. You put it there, I accepted it - or perhaps old age is creeping on and you've forgotten."

Spike touched the gold, worn thin in places by constant rubbing. "Never got you one with a big diamond in it, though, did I? I meant to. Every year that's passed, I've meant to. I could have stolen one for you, but didn't think you'd appreciate the gesture. This ring we found in some old crypt in Italy, remember? I didn't even buy it. I can only imagine the sort of ring Angel could give you."

Buffy started to yell at him again and then stopped. How many years had all this angst been festering under the surface? She'd thought they were happy. No! She defiantly pushed the thought away. They were happy. Their love had endured death, apocalypse, demon wars and half the Shanshu prophecy. She knew Spike still loved her. There had to be some way of making him realise how much she still loved him.

She loosened her grip on his fingers and began to rub across the knuckles with her thumb. "Do you remember those days before we got married?"

Spike stared out at the driving rain and for a few seconds he was back in the dark, airless tunnels that criss-crossed underneath the city of Rome. Almost from the moment he'd received the Shanshu and flown out to Italy, they'd been catapulted into the First European Demon War.

"We were hunting for someone to marry us," he said now.

"It was funny at the time, remember? Even with the fear and the blood and the demon spit flying around, we checked out everyone we met in case they were a priest or a clergyman of some sort."

Spike found himself smiling. "I seem to remember you even asked that demon with the stinky green heads if he knew where we could find one. But you sliced off all his heads before he could bloody well reply!"

"I was desperate to marry you."

Spike smirked. "Well, I was quite a catch, if I remember – "

Buffy glared at him. "No, vamp-boy, you weren't. You were a vampire with a soul, unchipped and carrying half a Shanshu prophecy around with you with no idea of exactly what part of the deal you'd got. I don't think you'd have come tops of any 'Is My Partner The Right One for Me?' poll."

"Then why – "

"Because I loved you, stupid! So much that I wanted everyone to know. Remember this?"

She crossed the bedroom to where a dark green leather box stood on a table. She had very little jewellery; beads, gold chains, a few earrings, a couple of bracelets. The top layer of shelves lifted out: Buffy picked up a tiny twist of tissue paper and unwrapped it.

She turned and held a ring towards Spike. It was made from twisted platinum hair – his. "You made this for me one night – in fact, I've always believed it was the night Shanny was conceived. I wore it for weeks until we found the gold wedding ring and I've treasured it through every battle, every disaster. It's never left me and never will."

Buffy crossed back to him, pushing the ring onto her finger. "Till death us do part. That's what I said, and that's what I meant. I don't want diamonds or fancy cars or- or – swimming pools. I certainly don't want Angel. I want you!"

She was taken by surprise at the speed of his arms snatching her close to him. The power of his kiss, the trembling of his body, inflamed her as if she was twenty-one again and she was hardly aware of him tugging her clothes away as they fell on the bed. And for minutes, as so often before, their daughter was forgotten.

Shanny finished cleaning in the kitchen, occasionally peering out of the window at the wind-swept yard, wondering how long Joyce was going to keep up this silly game this time.

There was no sign of her parents. Well, she hadn't expected there to be. She didn't have to go and check to know their bedroom door would be locked against her. She couldn't begin to count the times that had happened when she was little. Oh, it would be opened again at some time during the day and, if they weren't out patrolling, or in some grisly battle, there had been cuddles and hugs and fun. But all the laughter in the world couldn't make up for a locked door when you'd had a nightmare that the demons were about to get you.

Mom and Dad would appear in a little while, the link between them renewed, so tangible that you could almost see it.

She paused, inspected a chip on a cup and deciding it was too big to be overlooked, threw it into the trash. Then she rescued it and placed it to one side. It was a nice mug; there were kittens painted on it. Perhaps her mom could use it to keep things in. Shanny knew that was what you should always do with things that weren't perfect, that weren't magical or odd or even mystical – isolate them and hope they would come in handy at some time.

A sound from upstairs made her wince and she shut the kitchen door with almost a slam. Was she jealous of her parents? Of what they shared? No, she didn't think she was. She knew that her love for David was different, though. Was it less real? No.

Shanny caught sight of her reflection in the dark kitchen window. She sighed: if David were here he'd say she looked tired and make her sit down. The love they had for each other might not be all passion and intensity, but at the same time it was not inclusive. They included their children in the circle; they didn't shut them out.

Suddenly a slow trickle of unease wormed its way over her skull. Of course she included the twins in their life. Hadn't she done everything in her power to make sure they were brought up as normal children? OK, they weren't normal – at least Joyce wasn't – but she'd tried. She'd tried so hard.

'So why did you send them away?' a voice mocked inside her brain.

'So my mom and dad could help them. I didn't know how to keep them safe any more.'

And all at once she was back in that room – had it been in France? She couldn't remember – with her mom telling her that she was going to live in America so she would be safe.

The fires of rejection that Shanny had banked down for so many years, flared up into a final blaze, then just as suddenly died away. Oh God, was that what Joyce felt? That her mommy didn't want her?

Shanny sank down at the kitchen table. Her legs were shaking and she couldn't stand. She felt as if she'd opened a door onto a long pathway through a dark wood and was taking the first, tentative steps into the unknown.

Footsteps sounded above her, water was running in the bathroom. Mom and Dad would be down soon, renewed, invigorated, together. At their age she wondered where they got the energy.

Suddenly she smiled. Perhaps she was wrong and her parents had just been sitting upstairs, talking about how to find the twins! Or perhaps not. Slayer and vampire, husband and wife; it was a combination that defied all belief. Shanny had learnt that over the years and, not for the first time, was thankful that she and David were normal people.

Her mind flirted with her mom's revelation about her and the Angel guy, but it was too gross to remember. It was bad enough that your parents couldn't keep their hands off each other without having to think of someone else being in their lives.

She glanced at her watch and frowned. This little game of Joyce's had gone on too long now. She might well be the most powerful witch the world had ever seen, but she was still only eight years old and it was way past her and Billy's bedtime.

As Buffy and Spike came into the room, Shanny flung open the back door to the storm and called "Billy! Joyce! Come in at once. I know you're out there. I mean it, Joyce. It's time for bed. I'm going to count to five and you'd better get your butts in here – one – two – "

But the three was never spoken. The blackness of the open doorway was suddenly filled and Shanny stepped back, stifling a scream with all the practice of a childhood spent in hiding from hunting demons.

She heard her mom gasp and knew that she wasn't dreaming. A young woman stood there, her face painted in stripes and symbols, crouched, ready to attack.

tbc


	13. Chapter 13  Need the Child

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**Future Imperfect by Lilachigh**

Chapter 13: "Need the Child"

Shanny Summers-Green backed slowly away from the thing in the doorway, terror filling her mind. The demon that had haunted her dreams recently had found her! Then, without warning, she was flung sideways across the room, her father's hands throwing her to her mom, who whirled her round and stood in front of her as smoothly as if she had been practising the move all her life. Which, Shanny thought dizzily, she probably had.

"Don't move, Shanny!" Buffy snapped.

"What is it, luv?" Spike was advancing slowly towards the woman who shimmered in the darkness of the doorway.

Buffy felt her mouth dry. Seeing her daughter standing there, with that thing in front of her, every nightmare she'd ever had since Shanny's birth had flooded through her mind. This was why they had sacrificed the love of their child – wanting to keep her safe, because she would never be safe in their world. Never.

"It's – I think it's the First Slayer," she said softly. "Let me deal with her, Spike."

"I don't think it's real."

The woman, crouched and bared her teeth as the vampire got closer.

"Spike – real or not, she's dangerous. She's come for me. She's been waiting for me – "

Buffy walked forward and Spike eased to one side, guarding her back. He cast glance at Shanny, but she hadn't moved; she was standing, the hand pressed against her mouth, her face very pale.

Buffy stared at the painted face, millennia old. She knew the First Slayer existed, but only in another dimension. She had no right to be in this world. "What do you want? You're not welcome here. Your time is long gone. Go back."

The lips wriggled and twisted and somewhere inside her head, Buffy heard the words, "Need the child."

Buffy stepped back, her hand reaching out, knowing without checking that Spike had taken a sword from the wall just as the hilt smacked into her palm. "My daughter – stay back! You'll die trying."

The woman didn't move and Buffy suddenly realised she couldn't come into the house. Whatever magic had brought her this far, it ended outside the house.

"We need the child." Again the voice echoed and now there were other voices, hundreds and hundreds of them, in different languages. As Buffy looked, the blackness behind the First Slayer paled and stretching into the distance was a long pathway, lined with girls – mostly young, different sizes and colours and they were all chanting, pleading, begging, "We need the child."

"Buffy – what the hell's going on?"

She came back to the kitchen with a gasp, realising that neither Spike or Shanny could see the others. The woman was fading now and even as Buffy looked, she vanished. "She wanted Shanny."

"Me? What for?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, no one's going to hurt you."

"Dad – I'm quite aware of that," Shanny said dryly, raising her eyebrows in the direction of the huge sword her mom was carrying. "I'd just like to know why that thing wanted me. Is it because I'm the Slayer's daughter?"

"Goodness knows," Buffy said briskly. "Anyway, she's gone now. Don't worry about it. But Spike, it was weird. I know you couldn't see, but there were hundreds of others standing behind her. And I think – I think they were all Slayers."

"Well, if it's a convention, you can't go. Neither of you."

Shanny bit her lip. Don't worry about it! That was always her mom's answer to any demon problem. Run, hide, let me deal with it. If only they had explained more when she was small, perhaps she could have helped Joyce and Billy… Sighing, she walked to the back door but Buffy held out a hand to stop her. "Wait! I want to check – "

"Mom, the twins are still out there in the wet and dark. Joyce must stop playing silly games and let them all come indoors. It's way past their bedtime. This is the sort of thing she does all the time. It drives me crazy. I thought sending her to you and Dad would – "

" – change her?" Buffy asked crossly. "Did you really think I could make her an ordinary little girl in some way?"

"No, of course not!" Shanny struggled to keep her temper. This was her Mom all over. Not understanding. Always thinking the worst, never the best of her. "I told you – I thought you and Dad could explain things better than me. I wanted her to learn some self-control before she got herself and Billy killed."

As suddenly as it had come, her temper faded. "Mom, they're eight years old! Neither of them understands about evil. They've been brought up in a world where moms and dads are at home every evening, where moms cook dinner and dads shoot hoops in the yard." Tears burnt her eyes. "When I was nine, I could recognise and name at least thirty different demons. I was an ordinary little girl but I knew when to run and when to hide and when to scream for you or Dad to come kill things. Joyce and Billy – well, they don't know any of the basic rules and Joyce thinks she can get them out of any trouble simply by magicing it away."

"If you'd let us be part of their lives from the very beginning, instead of shutting us out, we could have taught them, too," Buffy said wearily. "But hey, I didn't know then that their father was Angel's son. That their other grandmother was the most deadly, heartless vamp that's ever lived! That might have made some difference to how we approached the problem."

There was a long silence. Mother and daughter stared at each other and Spike felt pain slice through him. He'd watched that look being exchanged for so many years. He loved them both, but knew neither understood the other. Buffy loved Shannon with all her heart and soul, that he knew was true. Did Shanny love her mother? He realised he didn't have any idea. Did she love him?

The old trickle of fear and rejection ran through him. Now she'd met Angel – would the day come when his daughter would wonder what her life would have been like with him as her father? And for all Buffy's heartfelt words and actions – she'd made love to him only an hour ago with he same passion she'd had when she was twenty-one – the day might dawn when she wondered the same thing. He pushed the thoughts away; bloody hell, there were more important things to worry about at the moment!

"I think we'd better postpone all the recriminations until we get the kids back under our roof and sort out the Angel being a grandfather problem," he said.

"Oh God, Angel! I'd forgotten all about him," Buffy gasped and Spike felt a huge weight shift slightly on his shoulders.

Outside in the dark, wet yard, Joyce leant against the invisible wall of the bubble, sticking her tongue against it to make little dents. She couldn't work out why she couldn't magic her way out. She had a sort of feeling it was because she was really, really tired and wanted to go to bed.

She glanced across at her twin. Billy was standing talking to the Angel guy, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. She sensed that the big, dark man fascinated Billy; she didn't know why. He didn't look fun and she was beginning to hate the way the Angel man looked at twin. He had such a silly expression on his face; as if he'd found something he thought he'd lost a long, long time ago. And Billy had his usual "I'm a good boy, everyone likes me, puppy-dog" expression.

'Billy!' She snapped at him inside her head. 'You look like a big dork.'

'Do not!' The answer came smoothly inside her mind.

"Do too! I don't like that man. I wish I'd left him indoors.'

There was no reply and Joyce turned and glared across the bubble at her twin. If he weren't careful she'd turn him into a snake or a rat or something even weirder. She could still do little magics in here. And vaguely, she wondered why she knew that.

Angel wasn't even aware of his granddaughter's irritation. He was choosing his words with such care, trying to get to know this child who looked so much like Darla it hurt. "So – school's OK?"

Billy shrugged. He could have gone inside the man's head to discover exactly what he wanted to hear, but that was rude. So he guessed what sort of answer was wanted. He sure didn't want to know that Billy found school boring, but pretended to enjoy it because that made his folks happy. "Sure, it's great. Reading, maths, science and – things."

"Do you like sport? Baseball, hockey?"

"Dad plays basketball with me in the yard."

"Oh."

Billy heard the tone and broke the rule he'd just made. He slid his mind carefully into the man's but it was a scary place, a jumble of words and people, years and years of pictures of concealed horrors he didn't want to investigate too closely and over and over everything, the words, "Connor. Darla. Connor. Darla. Mine."

"My Dad's good at sports," he said tentatively, wondering if the Angel man knew anything about basketball.

"Good. That's – good." Angel tried to make other words come out of his mouth. Words that shaped into sentences that said, "Hey, Billy. Your real dad is my son. His name is Connor. You'd like him a lot. That makes me your granddad. Just like Spike." He wanted to cradle the boy's head between his hands, feel the shape of that familiar skull under the blond hair. Oh God, Darla. What would you say if you saw this child?

"Are you feeling sick?"

He jumped. The girl – his grand-daughter – was standing next to them, frowning at him, her thin face reminding him of Spike in a bad temper.

"If you are, I think you should sit by yourself because if you throw up over us, we'll stink."

Angel fought down his irritation with this annoying child. She was so different from her brother, all edgy and cross. God, he could see Spike in her now. "I'm fine. Just talking to Billy about school and sports and – "

Joyce wrinkled her nose, then winced and blinked hard, her eyes watering. 'What did you do that for?' she yelled silently at her twin. 'That hurt my brain!'

'You were just about to say something rude. I could tell.'

'So?'

'He's kind of OK.'

'He's a vampire, like granddad. Can't you tell? I can!'

Billy's eyes opened very wide. So that was what all the odd jumbled thoughts were covering up.

" – getting to know you both. Your grandmother and grand-dad are – well, they're old friends of mine."

Joyce turned away. Only another vampire. Nothing interesting. And even he obviously liked Billy more than her. Everyone always liked her twin best. Her mom and dad, granny and granddad. Billy was never any trouble and she was. Not that she blamed them. She liked twin best, too. Oh, she was so bored now! She wondered if the Angel man would object if she magiced a tiger cub into the bubble. But she guessed he would. Grown-ups, even vampire ones, probably had silly rules about things like that.

She was cold and tired and needed the bathroom – again. She was beginning to wonder just how she was going to get the three of them safely back inside the house. She knew she could bring her mom and grandparents out to be in the bubble, but she had the feeling she would get into even more trouble if she did.

Suddenly she had a thought. She looked down at her feet and yes, she was standing on bubble. So, it surrounded them and wasn't fixed to the earth in the yard. Joyce shut her eyes tight: if the bubble was movable, then she was certain she could move it. Not as good as a tiger cub, but still -

Angel broke off from talking to Billy as the transparent wall behind him shimmered. "What - ?"

And then there was a crash and the world turned upside down. He was flung sideways, grabbing at Billy to protect him. In the seconds before he hit the edge of the table and passed out, he was aware of Buffy staring in at him as the bubble rolled over and over inside her kitchen.

Buffy gasped as the twins and Angel crashed violently onto the kitchen floor. Shanny ran forward and battered at an invisible wall to reach her children, but it was like punching the wind.

"The sword, pet!" Spike shouted, staring at the still bodies of Angel and Billy.

Buffy realised she was still holding the weapon: she raised it above her head and slashed downwards, yelling as the invisible surface deflected the blade, sending it flying from her grasp.

"Joyce! Joyce! Let us in at once," Shanny demanded.

The little girl picked herself up, rubbing her shoulder where it had banged against a chair. "I can't, Mommy! I've been trying. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – "

"Buffy!" Spike's voice was hard and controlled. His wife followed his pointing finger and gasped. She could see the open doorway from the kitchen into the yard through the bubble that was now blocking it. And there, growing more distinct every second, was the First Slayer and her vast army of girls who had once used the same title. They had returned.

tbc

Happy Christmas to everyone. Will update again after the holidays. Hope you are enjoying the story so far.


	14. Chapter 14   Bad Girl

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

Chapter 14 Bad Girl

Buffy stared in horror through the strange, transparent, magical bubble that Joyce had conjured up to where the First Slayer and her companions were waiting outside the door - calling, beckoning. They stretched back into the darkness – faces through the centuries, girls of every nationality under the sun, but in front of them all, the painted skin of the First Slayer. She was pressing herself against the other side of the barrier, her hands pushing hard, trying to break through.

Inside the bubble that Joyce had moved indoors so abruptly from the yard, Billy was sitting rubbing his head, but otherwise seemed OK. Angel was leaning against the invisible wall, groaning.

Shanny placed both hands against the shield and said, firmly, "Joyce! Listen to me carefully – you must stop this at once. However you made this – this thing, just – reverse it."

"Give us the child!" The low, keening words came over and over again from the gathering Slayers.

"I can't move it, Mom!" Joyce wailed.

Shanny hooked her fingers into claws that slid off the invisible surface. Buffy scrabbled for the huge sword that had slid across the floor after her last attempt and raised it high to attack. But suddenly Spike's hand shot out and grasped her wrist.

"Wait!"

"What? No! We haven't time to wait. Those Slayers have come back for Shanny. We have to get the children safe before we tackle - "

Spike's fingers around her wrist bit so deep that she winced. "I don't think it's Shanny they want, pet. It's Joyce!"

"What?" The great sword trembled and Buffy lowered it to the ground. "Joyce?"

"How do you know they don't want me?" Shanny asked, sounding almost angry.

Spike reached out to wrap an arm round her thin shoulders, but she shrugged him away, not seeing the fleeting flash of pain that crossed his pale face. "I can't be certain, but it makes sense. I think they're attracted to the power Joyce is giving out. They've never tried to contact you before, have they? I know you hate to hear it, but they've never had a reason to bother you and that makes me insanely pleased. No, I reckon it's your daughter they want. And while she's inside that bubble, she's safe. Her power is her protection."

Shanny shook her head. "She doesn't look very safe to me. And Billy's hurt. I want them out, Dad. I want them both out now." Her voice rose.

"Stop it!" Buffy hissed angrily. "Stop panicking. You're just upsetting Joyce. The more concerned she gets, the less she can control what she's doing. That's obvious." She swung round and said, "Joyce, honey, don't lower the barrier. Just sit still for a little while and Grandad and me will sort out something real soon."

Shanny flinched. These were her children, her precious children. How dare her mom accuse her of panicking? How dare she give Joyce orders? What did she expect Shanny to do? Calmly sit by and let those – things – outside find some way of breaking through to the twins? She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and stared at Buffy's tense, white face. "If anything happens to the twins – I will never forgive you. Ever."

Buffy turned away. What the heck was wrong with Shanny? Why all the dramatics? OK, they had a big problem, but it wasn't going to be cured by hysteria.

Spike frowned. "Buffy - take a look at where that thing has lodged? It's half in, half out of the door. That's why we can see it now. I reckon whatever magic Joyce has used only works outside the house."

"So why can't she lower the shield?"

Spike ran desperate fingers through his hair. "Maybe because she's eight years old, tired and probably more scared than she's letting on. How the hell do I know, pet? But part of that bubble is still outside. If it vanishes, then – "

" – the Slayers can reach her!" Buffy's gaze locked with his, a feeling of dread sweeping over her. All her old fears when Shanny was a little girl came sweeping back tenfold. The demons would get her child; they would find her wherever Buffy hid her. And now the same thing was happening to Joyce.

"This is all your fault, Mom." Shanny snapped, fighting back tears. "I should never have let the twins come here. They were safe with me at home. I'm telling you, once I get them out of there, we're leaving and never coming back!"

"Shanny – "

"Buffy – "

Inside the bubble, Joyce knelt down beside her twin. "Everyone's mad at me," she said softly out loud. She was too tired to concentrate on speaking inside his head.

Billy winced as he looked up at her and rubbed the bump on his forehead. "That was a stupid thing to do, doofus brains! What if the bubble thing had appeared in the middle of the fireplace or on top of the stove with us still inside it? And, anyway, why are they mad at you?"

Joyce nodded towards the figures she could see outside the transparent skin. The painted lady who'd haunted her dreams for months was standing there. "I think it's to do with that woman out there, but everyone's so busy yelling and arguing that I can't work out why."

Billy peered past her. "Hey, there's a whole lot of women out there. They look creepy." He listened for a few seconds then said, "They want you. 'Give us the child,' hey, that's what they're saying. Oh boy, no wonder everyone's so buzzed. You know we're not supposed to talk to strangers and you've gone and invited a whole busload home with you. You are in so much trouble! I bet you get grounded for months."

Joyce shrugged. She glanced over to where she could see her mom and grandparents still arguing in low, terse voices on the other side of the kitchen.

"We've got a problem, kid. We need to get out of here." Angel groaned, coming back to his senses. He blinked and rolled over onto his knees. One swift glance had told him everything he needed to know. "You OK, Billy?"

His hand reached out instinctively to touch the blond head close to his. He could see the dark stain of a bruise beginning to bloom on the boy's forehead. This grandchild of his would mark as easily as Darla had done, of that Angel was quite certain. He knew that if he pressed his fingers round that slender wrist he would leave blue imprints that would stay there for weeks on end; a never-ending bracelet of possession.

Billy moved away from the questing hand and stood up. "I'm OK," he said and smiled because he somehow knew that was what this Angel man wanted to see.

He was tempted to slide inside the man's mind again, but hesitated. The last time he'd done that, great vistas of scenes from the horror films he wasn't supposed to watch had flashed through his brain, showing him things he didn't understand, things that he knew he shouldn't understand but did. What he'd seen had made him feel cold and dirty. He'd hastily pulled away: he didn't want to go there again and he refused to listen to a little voice in the back of his mind that said "go – look – learn – it'll be fun."

"You need to stop playing games, Joyce," Angel said.

Joyce pushed out her bottom lip and looked sulky. "Grandma said not to put the barrier down – and anyways, I can't," she told him baldly, scratching at a scab on the back of her wrist.

Angel curbed his impatience. He reckoned she was too much like Spike to take orders. He frowned. If she'd been Spike, he'd have ordered her not to destroy the bubble – then she would just have gone ahead and done so!

But if Buffy had said no – he stared out to where the girl he had once loved so much was standing, hands on hips, arguing with her daughter. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he could tell from their expressions that whatever it was, scarlet ribbons, candy and puppies didn't come high on the list.

He stared round the bubble, wincing at the sight of the swirling lines of girls stretching out into the darkness on the far side of the doorway. He could hear their chant – "Give us the child. Give us the child." Angel peered closely at the doorway and then spun round.

"Spike!"

"Oh, you're awake. About time. Little knock on the head that wouldn't have harmed Xander Harris and you go all woozy - "

"William. Listen."

Bright blue eyes stopped being disdainful and Spike's gaze sharpened. Angel very rarely used his real name.

"Can't you see – the bubble is half in, half out of the door? We're not completely inside the house. So if Joyce does manage to shut it down, what's to stop these creatures taking her?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "You're five minutes behind the pace – as always. We've already worked that out."

"So we have to break through on this side."

Buffy came to stand next to Spike. "We've tried. Nothing cuts the barrier. Nothing non-magical, anyway. I wish Willow was here. Or even within spell range. She could at least give us a clue what to do."

"Why do they want her so badly?" Shanny spoke abruptly, her voice tight with worry. "She's only a little girl; she's not a Slayer. OK, she's a witch, but why should that worry them? She's never hurt them. What do they want to do with her?"

"That's a very good question. We need to ask them. Tell them that she isn't going anywhere." Suddenly she snapped her fingers in exasperation and turned to her husband. "How stupid can we get? We don't need to lower the shield. I'll just go outside and round to the back yard. I need to face them, then perhaps we can get some answers."

"I'm coming with you!" Shanny and Spike spoke together.

Buffy smiled briefly. "I doubt nothing on earth will stop you from guarding my back, Spike. But Shanny – " She hesitated, shaken by the cold dislike on her daughter's face – "I know it's hard for you, but please, just stay here and wait. I need to speak to the First Slayer and if Dad has to look out for you, too – well, it makes it easier if – "

" – I'm not around!" Shanny finished the sentence. "So what's new, Mom?"

"That isn't what I meant – " She stopped, irritation flooding through her. If Shanny wanted to play 'hurt child-wicked mommy' games, then so be it. Buffy had had enough of that crap from her daughter to last her a lifetime. Had she no idea, even after all these years, of how difficult it was when your attention was divided around demons and monsters? Why did she want to make her dad's job more difficult?

Shanny shrugged. Her mom couldn't have made it plainer if she'd written it in blood on the kitchen wall. "You are a Nuisance. You are In the Way. Be quiet and do as we say." But mom had forgotten one thing. The twins weren't her children, they were Shanny's. And she would do everything in her power to protect them, regardless of what her parents wanted her to do.

She turned back to Angel. "Mom and Dad are taking charge, as you can see," she said bitterly. "Unless you have a better plan?"

Angel watched as Spike and Buffy vanished out of the kitchen. He wasn't sure about their scheme. All their experience had been years ago: they were nearly twenty-five years older now. Buffy was still a Slayer, but surely a little slower, her reactions a little rusty. And as for Spike – he felt a surge of something that was almost grief. Spike was an ageing vamp, which Angel reckoned was the saddest thing he had ever seen. He's always thought Spike had come off best with his share of the Shanshu Prophecy. Now he wasn't that sure.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joyce and Billy whispering together and knew that yes, his first thoughts had been right. Living forever, even living in the sunshine meant nothing compared to being grandparents to this little boy. And girl, of course, although Angel had to admit he didn't have any instinctive feeling of identity with the skinny blonde child.

Joyce sighed. She was bored and tired and knew there was going to be a great big row once her mom and grandparents had sorted out the old women in the garden. She turned and pulled a face at the lady with the white lines zig-zagging across her cheeks.

"Don't do that, stupid!"

"Why not?"

"It's rude."

Joyce's temper flared. "Oh, listen to dear little Billy Summers-Green. Always so good. Mommy's little pet! See if I care." And turning, she stuck out her tongue at the First Slayer and crossed her eyes.

Billy scowled and pulled her away by one of her blonde braids. "I said stop it!"

"Ow! That hurts. Beast! Rotten beast!" She shot out a hand and caught him full on his nose and the next second they were a yelling, fighting, flailing bundle of arms and legs, rolling over and over.

"Joyce! Stop that! Do you hear me? Stop now! Leave Billy alone." Shanny's voice rang out sharply but if the twins heard, they ignored her. "Angel, break them up, before Joyce does something stupid. It isn't a fair fight with those two. She'll turn him into a toad or something."

Angel strode across the bubble and grabbed Joyce's arm. With an effort he pulled her away from her brother and held her tight, trying to avoid the flailing fists and kicking feet that were thudding into his legs. "Ouch! Stop that, you little wildcat. Billy, are you OK? Has she hurt you?"

Billy jumped to his feet, jeering at Joyce, wiping blood from his nose. His twin struggled in Angel's non-too-gentle grasp, fists clenched, glaring at her brother standing there, the boy everyone loved more than her. It wasn't fair. She could be good too, if she tried. No one ever gave her a chance. It wasn't her fault she couldn't lower the shield. It wasn't her fault these silly women were outside in the yard.

"Joyce! Just you wait until you get out of there. I am so tired of your behaviour. We'll see what Daddy has to say!" Shanny's voice trembled with anger.

Angry tears began to burn in Joyce's eyes. She loved her father so much. She hated it when he was angry with her. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. No one wanted her here. Not even her twin.

Suddenly Joyce realised that the unhappiness she felt tearing through her body was what she'd needed all this time. She knew what to do and how to do it. Everyone hated her. It wasn't fair. OK, she'd go and talk to the painted lady, see what she wanted. That would show them. If they thought she was bad, she'd be bad!

With a violent wriggle, she twisted away from Angel and before Shanny could call out, Joyce shut her eyes and used all the anger and hurt she was feeling to smash the barrier into nothing. Defiantly, she walked out of the house towards the women.

"Twin! Wait for me!" Billy raced to her side and her hand automatically reached out for his. His fingers gripped hers and just as Buffy and Spike ran round the corner of the house into the back yard, the twins were surrounded by the hundreds of Slayers who were waiting for them.

And then the yard was empty.

tbc


	15. Chapter 15   Green Eyed Monster

**Future Imperfect by Lilachigh**

**The story so far: Buffy and Spike's twin grandchildren have been taken away by past Slayers. Angel, who has just discovered that the twins are also his grandchildren (their biological father is Connor, his son) has summoned help from old adversaries.  
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Ch 15: Green Eyed Monster

The sleek private jet – matt black with no markings – swung round in the evening sky to make it's final approach before landing.

An elderly Englishman gazed out of a window – America – it had been two years since he'd been here, the place that had once been home. Well, no, that wasn't strictly true because he wasn't returning to Sunnydale, but to a town much further north where the sun was never as strong. So back to work and a life of coffee and no proper tea. He sighed but privately he was delighted.

In the seat next to him, a woman with short red hair tore her gaze from her laptop and turned to smile at him. "Tired, Giles?"

"What? Oh no – I mean woken out of a deep sleep by a phone call from Angel – Angel! - telling me that a car was outside my door to take me to a private airfield where his jet would bring me to the States. No time to pack, or even shave! I feel grubby, cross and worried. But tired? Oh no."

Willow laughed. "Sarcasm, Giles? I'd have thought you were desperate to find out what's going on. I know I am."

"All I could gather from Angel – I mean Angel owns a private jet! – was that Buffy needed both of us at once. The phone line was dreadful but I gathered little Joyce had vanished again. I can't see why that would need the cavalry – she does it often enough, or so I believe."

Willow sighed and turned the laptop in his direction. "I've finally managed to get an e mail from Shanny – the only person in the whole family who seems to know how to use technology. Read this, Giles. It's – " her voice quavered – "it's terrifying."

Rupert Giles pushed his glasses down from where they sat on top of his head and read the lines of text – he could taste the fear and frantic worry in each word. "I don't understand – the past Slayers have take the twins! Taken them where – how - why?"

Willow typed a quick response to say they would be with them asap and shut down the computer as a voice came over the intercom saying they were about to land.

Giles glanced at the woman next to him as she busied herself with her seat belt. Willow hadn't aged well, he thought. Since Kennedy had been killed in the early months of the First European Demon Wars, she had changed. There were grey streaks in the rusty red hair and a bitter twist to her mouth that hadn't been there years before. She seemed tense and unhappy and – the word floated into his mind – apprehensive in a way he couldn't quite fathom.

"What can Shanny mean by "Angel is so concerned, naturally"?"

Willow shook her head. "I have no idea. I haven't heard anything from her for over a year." She clasped her hands together in her lap, her fingers gripping and twisting each other, trying to school the hurt out of her voice.

Giles reached over to calm her. "We've always known Joyce would be a problem. But one I'm sure you can sort out. Witch to witch, so to speak. I mean, as much as I admire Buffy, her parenting skills are nil. Remember how inept she was with Dawn when their mother died? And don't even let me get started on Spike as a father! I agreed with Shanny when she decided to keep the twins away from her parents and I'm surprised she's let them get involved now. Well, it's obviously a course of action she regrets."

Willow shuddered. If she'd had any sense she wouldn't have answered Angel's phone call, would have sat in her house with all the lights off until morning and then got in her car and driven as fast and far as possible so no one could find her.

"You mustn't worry about upsetting Buffy. It isn't your fault that Shanny turned to you when she was sent back to live in America. You did the very best for her you could and she and David seem very happy together."

Willow nodded. Yes, Giles was right, of course he was. Buffy's jealousy was something she would just have to cope with. She adored Shanny; she always had ever since the child had been born in the catacombs under the streets of Rome. The big brown eyes, the hair, even the expression – nothing like Buffy or Spike, but so like the first Joyce, her grandmother. And what else could she have done when Shanny had been sent to the States to live with Willow's own parents except try and be a mother to her?

The young girl had been sullen, shut away inside herself, unable to show any true emotion. Willow had sensed an enormous anger and resentment against her parents. Had she made it worse? A worm of worry and guilt threaded through her mind. Had she sympathised too much, made Shanny feel like a little martyr rather than a young girl who'd been saved from a nightmare life by parents who loved her more than themselves?

No, she shook herself. She'd helped turn that teenager into a lovely young woman. OK, she'd had that bad time when David got her pregnant, but even that had worked out OK. And if Joyce had been a normal child – well, thank heavens that Billy was a sweet, ordinary little boy.

The jet's engines screamed in pain as the wheels touched down and slowed dramatically, swinging round in a circle to taxi towards a long, black limousine that was waiting at the end of the runway, engine already running.

And as Willow gathered her possessions together and helped Giles untangle his seatbelt, she knew that the terror she was just about holding at bay was based on that fact. The twins – well, Joyce – were not normal. Willow had met many witches over the years – she knew her own powers could be phenomenal if she let them – but Joyce – the little girl was in a class of her own. Willow had left America to live in England when Shanny had asked her to stop Joyce – and as she set foot again on American soil, she admitted at last to herself why.

It hadn't just been because she was scared of Joyce's powers – no, she'd been jealous. And as the limousine roared away from the airport, Willow knew that jealousy had only been increased by knowing Shanny had finally sent the precious twins back to Buffy and Spike for them to help.

She'd always secretly been proud that she was the one who had a connection with the girl who was so important to Buffy. Being a witch who almost destroyed the world hadn't completely wiped out the gawky girl who'd always taken the "best friend" role in life. Who'd never been as important or necessary, who'd messed up even in bringing her friend back from the dead. But Shanny had loved her, listened to her, taken her advice – until now. And as the car purred through the night, Willow hugged to herself with pleasure the bitter knowledge that things had obviously gone wrong with the twins once Buffy and Spike became involved again.

Rupert Giles rubbed a hand over his chin, wishing he'd had time to shave before leaving England. The last thing he wanted was to meet dear Shanny, Buffy, Spike and, for god's sake, Angel, looking like an elderly tramp. He felt a warm glow of satisfaction that he was being asked to advise once more. The years had passed by so swiftly and he'd had various Slayers under his protection since the Potentials had been called. But during the last few years he'd been asked for help less and less. He was fond of Shanny and although he didn't know twins well, he was sure he could be of use in the present situation. It was just comforting to know that even after all this time, Buffy had turned to him.

And as the car roared onwards through the dark night, neither Willow nor Giles recalled that they had only heard from Angel and Shanny. Neither had spoken a word to Buffy or Spike. ….

Angel walked across the yard to where an old swing hung from the branch of a big tree. It was still dark but dawn was tinging the sky lavender and mauve. The swing creaked on its hinges and he could see Spike quite clearly, one booted foot pushing at the dusty trail made by many feet over the years.

"Noisy in there," he said sitting down next to the man who'd been his child, lover, enemy and companion over so many years.

Spike shrugged. He'd left the house when Buffy, Shanny and Willow started on the third round of who was to blame. "You invited them here. We didn't."

Angel found that after all these years, he was still able to wince at the "we". "They're needed. Every brain we can muster."

"Well, those brains haven't even begun to think of a way to get the twins back yet. And two of them belong to women I love."

"You can't expect Shanny to have any ideas where Slayers are concerned." Angel sounded irritated.

Spike waited for the surge of anger he expected to flow over him; righteous anger that Liam thought he had the right to talk to him about his daughter. But nothing happened. He felt empty. He wanted to fight, but there was no one to chase, nothing to kill. He'd watched the twins vanish from sight and knew that for the first time in his unlife he was completely and utterly helpless. He wanted to hate this man for helping to cause this disaster, but even that seemed beyond him.

"Have you phoned your son yet? What was his name? Connor? Told him about the twins?"

There was a pause: even in the dark, Spike could see Angel's face, the pain that flashed across it. "No. It's not the sort of thing you tell someone by text or phone call, is it?"

Spike shrugged and wished desperately that he had a cigarette to smoke. "Well, he wouldn't be the first guy to learn he's fathered a child after a drunken one night stand! But maybe not all of them did it with a fifteen year old."

"She looked eighteen in those photos! I don't blame him."

Spike gazed towards the eastern sky and sighed. "Oddly enough, nor do I. Neither of us have the right to blame anyone for anything. We gave that up a long time ago. And let's face it, you'll have to deal with the consequences long after I'm dead and dust."

Angel felt his stomach heave. The truth of Spike's words bit into his stupid soul. Twenty, thirty, perhaps forty if he was very lucky, years. Then William the Bloody would be gone for good, his half of the Shanshu – that he would age the same way as a human - finished and done. And he himself would go on and on and on…alone. He forced his thoughts away from that. "Where do you think the Slayers have taken them?"

"God knows. I can't even begin to think why let alone where."

"Joyce is only nine. I understand how powerful she is, but even so, how can that help them?"

Spike pushed himself up and away from the swing. "Sun's nearly here . I'm going indoors."

"Why not take an adult witch? I can't believe there isn't one out there in the world with equal powers," Angel muttered as he followed the other vampire across the yard.

Spike took the porch steps two at a time and spun round, vamping out for a second. "Idiot! You're falling into the same trap as everyone else. Buffy, Shanny, even Willow. You all think they came for Joyce. I think they came for Billy!"

tbc


	16. Chapter 16  The Gift

**Future Imperfect** by **Lilachigh**

**The story so far: A lot has happened since Buffy and Spike's grandchildren - the twins Billy and Joyce - were sent by their mother Shanny to have their heritage explained by her parents. Joyce is a powerful, 8 year old witch, Billy can control people's minds, to Spike's horror, they have discovered that Angel's son, Connor, is the twins' real father. But now things have become really bad. Dead Slayers have appeared and taken the twins and Angel has summoned Giles and Willow from England to help find them. Oh and Shanny still blames her parents for everything!**

Chapter 16 The Gift

"Dad! Listen! Will you please tell Mom that I've got to call David and tell him the twins are missing! She says there's no need to worry him yet. She's crazy. And they are my children; she has no right to tell me what to do."

Spike felt the wave of emotion hit him as he walked into the family room. His daughter was standing, hands on hips, eyes blazing, looking more like Buffy when angry than she had ever done before. He glanced round for the Slayer but she'd obviously beat a strategic retreat. "I don't see what David can do, sweetheart," he began…

"Oh yes, and all you clever demon and vampire experts are really getting Joyce and Billy back quickly, aren't you! David is their father. Just being here – well, he might make a difference, somehow. And I need him. I need someone on my side."

"Shanny, my dear, we're all on your side!" Giles sounded concerned: he looked exhausted, the time difference beginning to bite. Sitting at the head of the table, books and documents spread out around him, he tapped the pristine page of his new notebook with a freshly sharpened pencil. "The sensible way to proceed is logically, one step at a time. List all our knowledge, collate our facts, come up with a plan and work out a sensible, safe approach. Buffy's right, this time. David is a great guy, but not, perhaps, a great help in these special circumstances."

"But we don't even know what the circumstances are!" Shanny crumpled suddenly as if all the fight had been drained out of her. She swayed and Spike reached out to catch her, but Angel was faster. Not aging did make a difference to a vampire, Spike thought bitterly, watching as his daughter was half carried to a sofa and lowered gently onto it. He'd never worried about that part of the Shanshu he'd been given. He wanted to grow old with Buffy, walk into the sunrise the day after she died. He knew he wasn't as fast as he had been, but until Angel moved to catch Shanny, he hadn't realised how slow he'd become. And he was terrified.

"Willow and I are going to research into every aspect of these ex- Slayers, although I have to admit that I have never heard of them being seen before, except for the First Slayer, of course."

Willow looked up from the desk on the far side of the room where she'd plugged in her laptop. She looked tired. "Shanny, I know being patient seems impossible, but we are trying all we know. And I've sent messages to every coven I can think of in case someone, somewhere comes up with a different idea."

"I've got contacts." Angel sounded hesitant but patted her shoulder, trying to be positive. "Not sure how many of them are still alive or even if they'll be willing to talk to me since the Shanshu, but I've sent out a request for help. You just have to be brave a little longer, Shanny. We'll find the twins and bring them home safely. I promise."

Shanny raised her head from her hands and wiped her fingers slowly down her face, as if eradicating all outward signs of emotion. Spike shuddered. There, once again, was the blank-faced girl he'd known when she was sent back to America from Europe, all fire and anger pushed so deeply inside that to an on-looker, she seemed cold and heartless.

She licked dry lips. "So, you agree with Mom? That I shouldn't tell David, even though he loves the twins to distraction. I didn't expect anything else from you. I can't remember a time when you disagreed with anything she said. "

Spike wanted to cross the room and hold her so tightly she could never leave his side again. But Angel was still sitting on the sofa, one big hand on her shoulder. All he could do was say, "It would drive him half mad with worry, sweetheart. Let's be honest; this part of our world is incredibly hard for normal people to understand. And Giles and Red are right, there is nothing he can do."

"This is all Joyce's fault," Shanny said suddenly. "I know she's only a child, and not a normal one, but she knows the difference between right and wrong and when she's being deliberately naughty. She won't listen; she refuses to behave and now she's taken my Billy with her, somewhere…somewhere…"

"Of course it isn't Joyce's fault! Personally I pity the poor Slayers who've been landed with those two," Spike said dryly. "Whatever they needed a child for, they would have been in for a nasty shock when Joyce turned up."

"Spike thinks they came for Billy, not Joyce," Angel explained when the others looked puzzled.

Giles pushed his spectacles up on top of his head. "Really, that's interesting. But Billy has no powers, does he?"

Spike flung himself down into a chair, wondering if growing old always meant you were tired when you hadn't slept all night. "Well, Rupert, if you don't count being able to read minds and control people's thoughts, then no, he doesn't!"

Shanny jumped to her feet and prowled round the room, straightening pictures on the walls, picking up ornaments and putting them down in a neat line. "Oh Dad, you're just imagining that. There's nothing wrong with Billy: I'd have noticed. Believe me, I've grown up with enough demons and vampires and people with weird powers not to recognise that in my own son."

Spike shrugged; this wasn't the time or place to argue with Shanny. He could tell she was just holding herself together. For all the expressionless face, he could only guess how she was feeling. He accepted that Joyce's powers were showy, exciting and weird but the ability to change how a person thought, that was heavy and dangerous, especially when it was a power wielded by a small boy.

Spike got to his feet. The atmosphere in the room was so oppressive, so full of dread and despair. He needed to find his wife and feel the power of her love helping him to cope with the sense of helplessness he was experiencing. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed open their bedroom door, expecting to find Buffy. But the room was empty. Spike frowned – she wasn't in the bathroom, and a quick check told him she wasn't anywhere else in the house.

He stared out of the window. The sun was edging up but heavy clouds were swinging across the sky from the west giving a dull, overcast day. There was no sign of Buffy in the yard and their old car was still in the garage. A coil of unease twisted sharp teeth in his stomach.

As he turned, he caught sight of a blur on the dressing-table mirror. Red – for danger. Red - for blood. He read the words written in lipstick. She'd been in too much of a hurry to find a pencil. "I'm sorry. I'll always love you."

Downstairs, Shanny was sitting back on the sofa, head to head with Angel, talking in whispers. She looked up, alarmed, as Spike burst into the room. "Dad! What's wrong?"

"Where did your mom go, Shan?"

"Mom? Oh, she said she was going out. To patrol, I suppose. I mean, my children are missing, but she'll never give up patrolling, will she?"

Spike bit back his angry retort. "It's too light for vamps to rise. I don't understand. What exactly did she say when she left?"

Shanny shook her head. "I…I…didn't really listen," she stammered, scared at his expression. "She always patrols, doesn't she. I can't remember a day when she didn't go kill something!"

Willow glanced up vaguely from the screen she was studying. "Are you looking for Buffy? She said – " She ran her fingers through rough red hair and frowned, "Something about a nest of Chark demons and that you would understand she had to do it. That it was a Slayer thing."

"Chark demons!" Spike, Giles and Angel all spoke at once.

"How many?"

"On her own?"

"That's incredibly dangerous. She should know better than that."

But Spike was already at the door, snatching up his leather coat, throwing it over his head.

"Wait! William! It's too light outside for you. Let me go." Angel was at his side, his face grim.

"Dad, I don't understand. What's wrong with fighting Chark demons?"

Spike couldn't reply. Angel's hand was tight on his arm. He took a deep breath and tried to smile at his daughter. "Stay here with Giles and Willow. I won't be long. I have to bring your mom home."

His long stride took him into the front yard, Angel still at his side. "Do you realise what she's doing, Liam?" His voice was harsh, almost unrecognisable. "Charks. A whole nest. That could mean fifty – even sixty of the filthy things. I didn't even know there was one locally! She never told me." He groaned. "Yes, bugger it, she did! A couple of nights ago. She was saving them up as a challenge for the local young Slayers to take out. But there's at least six of them."

"So, ok, Charks. She knows how dangerous they are. Buffy's ever shirked a fight. Perhaps she just wants to fight something, kill, destroy. She's a Slayer. You know what that means. They get off on the blood and death."

Spike shook his head wearily; Angel had never understood Buffy. Faith, well, yes, the rush of killing was like wine to her. Spike knew that if he had met her in the Sunnydale school all those years ago, she wouldn't have fought him without weapons. She would have gone for the kill, every time. But Buffy was different. She was a Slayer, she still had a mission, even if had been diluted by all the new girls. But it was the mission that was important, not how you achieved it. Death was her gift. As true today as ever it had been. A gift she gave and accepted in equal part.

They reached the road and stood, sniffing the morning air for traces of the woman they both loved. Even with the coat draped over his head, Spike could feel a certain warmth on his skin.

"We have to find her. Fast! Go up to the woods. I'll check in town. We haven't got much time. She's got a good headstart on us. Which is what she wanted, of course. God, how didn't I see that she would work this out."

Angel frowned. "I don't understand. What has she worked out?"

"That dead Slayers have taken the twins. So she needs to be a dead Slayer. She doesn't want to kill the Charks. She wants them to kill her!"

tbc

Author's note: Do hope you are enjoying this story.


	17. Chapter 17  Charks

**Future Imperfect** by **Lilachigh**

**The story so far: **Buffy and Spike's grandchildren, Joyce and Billy, have gone with the dead Slayers into an unknown world. Willow and Giles are trying to get them back by magic but Angel and Spike have realised that Buffy has already decided that there is only one way. She, too, must become a "dead" Slayer. She is going to let demons kill her.

Chapter 17 Charks

The warehouses built around the train station many years ago when the railway was the only way to transport heavy goods had long been abandoned. Occasionally someone would buy one and try to turn it into apartments or a nightclub but they were too far out of town, too lonely at night because the edge of the Sunnydale cemetery ran parallel with the railway at that point. So the scheme would fail and the warehouses were left to dust and decay, home for the homeless, fast food outlets for vampires and demons.

As the sun struggled and failed to cut through the overcast sky, Buffy walked slowly towards the biggest building, a ramshackle wooden barn whose seasoned timbers had withstood the ravages of the seasons better than its more modern companions. She knew that Charks had built a nest in it; she'd been going to use them as a good exercise for her local Slayer potentials. Lots of killing in a quick, violent fight. There should be fifty or sixty Charks – enough to kill her quickly if she didn't fight back.

She knew that was the only problem she had: ignoring every Slayer instinct she had to stay alive. Today she had to die, become a dead Slayer and so track her grandchildren into whatever world they had been taken to.

Would Spike understand? She thought Shanny would: if her daughter had been a Slayer, she would have sacrificed herself without a second thought to help her children. Yes, Spike would, she sighed. He wouldn't agree with what she was doing, but surely he would understand.

She ignored a little voice that asked why, if that was the case, she hadn't discussed it with him first.

Willow and Giles wouldn't understand, but this wasn't something to put to a joint Scoobie decision. The second she'd watched Joyce and Billy vanishing amongst the ghosts of Slayers past, Buffy had known what she had to do.

She wasn't scared of the pain: whatever there was would soon vanish. 'Died twice, third time lucky,' she muttered, pushing open the door, not trying to stop it creaking loudly as it swung back on rusty hinges. Physical pain she could cope with. But leaving Spike!

She forced her mind to shut off from that thought. They'd had years more together than either of then would ever have dreamed possible; she had treasured every second of their Shanshued existence. But of course it wasn't going to last. At the back of her mind she'd always known the time would come when she would be called to give a reckoning for the gift. And this was it. The price for past happiness was Billy and Joyce. So be it.

She hesitated in the gloom of the barn, brushing cobwebs aside that hung like crawling grey nets from the ceiling. From somewhere came the high-pitched chittering that sent a shudder across her body. Charks! Lots of them, the noise made by three rows of needle-sharp teeth rattling against each other. Well, she'd wanted to find them and she certainly wasn't going to be disappointed.

"Hey, Charkies!" she yelled. "Anyone at home."

The chittering stopped, replaced by a rustling of scaley wings and feet as the demons gathered together. Orange and green eyes gleamed here, there, all round her, circling their prey, ready to attack.

She wondered if she could afford the luxury of taking a few with her before she died, then shook her head. Better safe than sorry. Better dead than alive. "No regrets," she muttered, walking forward, but knowing she was lying. She regretted not saying goodbye to her daughter, kissing Spike one last time, making him promise not to walk into the sunlight after her, because she was going to get the twins back somehow and he needed to be here to take care of them.

The first Chark – there was always one whose job it was to die to see how strong the enemy was – came flying out of the dark. Automatically her hand shot up before she could stop it and set it screaming and hurtling head over tail into the far wall to crash, dying on the floor.

"That is so not the way!" she muttered and stood with her arms folded, gripping her elbows to stop any defence, but glaring at the heaving mass of demons, determined to face death without a qualm.

The biggest Charks in the front row screamed their attack message and launched themselves towards her. And then the world went mad. A roaring, yelling vampire crashed through their ranks in full game face, fangs reaching for throats, hands and feet a blur of action as he killed.

"Spike! Stop! You must stop!"

But even if he heard her, he was past listening. She watched, astonished, as her husband reverted to the speed and effortless, fluid killing that she hadn't seen for years. But sixty Charks was still too many for two fighters, no matter how good they were and as they were surrounded, the demons snapping and snarling, Spike just picked her up in his arms and leapt for the door, kicking out to kill two more as he catapulted them outside, dropping Buffy on the ground and slamming the door shut on slavering jaws.

He yelped as the weak sunlight hit his skin and flung himself across the road into the dark shade of an old, deserted Post Office.

Buffy stormed after him, furious words bubbling up. "Spike! How dare you? You shouldn't have interfered. I have to die. I have to find the twins."

Spike spun round to face her, vamping back into human face. "No! Listen to me, Slayer. You are not going to die on purpose. I won't let you. For an intelligent woman, you can be incredibly stupid some times. And – " he paused, then interrupted her angry reply with, "I thought we were a partnership, Buffy. That we discussed everything. I'm your husband, not some stranger vamp you're bedding on a whim! I can't believe – you just went ahead, planning to die and left me a sodding message on a sodding mirror! Apart from the fact that I never look in mirrors – vampire, remember? – do I really mean so little to you that you believe you can just wander off to die with just a few words of goodbye. You – you – " He stopped and turned away but not before she had seen the dreadful hurt painted on his face like a scar.

"Do you think I wanted to leave you? I love you! I love you more and more every day, but we don't – can't matter, Spike. The twins have gone. Did you see Shanny's face? Oh my god, she's their mother. Whatever we feel, she must feel it fifty, a hundred times more. I would do anything, give anything, even my life, to take that look from her face."

"And I didn't matter? Not even enough to discuss killing yourself! Well, not so surprising. I've always known where I really stood in your affections."

Buffy blinked back tears. She'd been so sure he would understand, but the vampire who never believed he was good enough for her obviously still lurked under the man she'd been married to for so many years. She took a deep breath: she had to make allowances. Had she acted too quickly? Yes, that was obvious now. But talking it over with Spike would have achieved nothing: he'd never have agreed. OK, perhaps he had a right to be upset, but he didn't mean what he was saying; when this was all over they would talk it out, banish all these stupid thoughts. But before she could speak –

"Mom?"

She spun round to find Shanny and Angel standing a few yards away. And even as she realised Shanny had heard every word she said, she was thinking how weird it was to see her former lover standing there, the sun shining brightly now on his dark blue leather jacket, tanning a face that no longer was pale and interesting. A vampire who could walk in the sunlight – his share of the Shanshu.

"Mom – you were going to die to get to the twins?" Shanny's voice trembled emotion. "For me?" She took two faltering steps forward, a ripple of emotion crossing her usually unreadable face. "For me?" she repeated, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"You mom would do anything for you and the twins, sweetheart. We both would. But I couldn't let her die. That cab't be the only way of helping them."

But Shanny wasn't listening: Buffy had held out her hand and for the first time in many years, her daughter clasped it tightly, their fingers twining together.

"Well, as your father has ruined this plan, let's get back to the house and work out something else," Buffy said and with her arm round her daughter's waist, the two of them walked away.

Angel stood gazing after them, then turned back to where Spike had slumped down on the ground in the dark shade, wiping orange blood from his lips.

"How close did she get?"

Spike shuddered, seeing the Charks surrounding her, teeth rattling, scales shifting. "Another minute and I'd have been too late."

"She's none too pleased." Angel flung himself down next to the man who'd shared so much of his life, including the woman he still loved.

Spike shrugged. "Have to live with that, won't I? She's alive. That's all that matters. We'll find another way to get to the twins."

"But will she forgive you for stopping her?" Angel tried to keep the hope out of his voice but Spike didn't respond, he was gazing into space and whatever he was looking at wasn't all puppies and chocolate. "Well?"

"What? Oh, bloody hell, I don't know, Liam. More to the point, can I ever forgive her for not telling me what she was going to do?"

tbc


	18. Chapter 18  A Sort of Betrayal

**Future Imperfect** by **Lilachigh**

Chapter 18 A Sort of Betrayal

The story so far: Joyce and Billy have followed the Dead Slayers into the void and Buffy's idea to die so she could join them has been foiled by Spike, who is furious that she would want to leave him. Now it is up to Giles and Willow to come up with a plan - with Angel's help!

Buffy sipped coffee and stared round her family-room, wondering bitterly if she'd had some sort of time travel experience and gone back to the days when they'd been fighting the First and her home had been bursting at the seams with Potential Slayers.

The curtains were drawn, as usual, against the day. With both vamps around, Buffy had been unable to throw open the windows and let in some fresh air so the atmosphere smelt musty, as if too many people were using the same oxygen, even though two of them didn't even breathe. Willow and Giles were sharing the table, using it as a desk, computer, books, piles of papers and dirty coffee mugs strewn in abandon. Angel made up the third of the unlikely trio, although Buffy had to admit that Giles' body language when the vampire leaned over his shoulder to stare at something on the computer screen would have been hysterically funny at any other time.

The house she and Spike had lived in since they'd returned from Italy all those years ago, was small - but that had never been a concern until now. Willow and Shanny were sharing the twins' bedroom, Giles had tucked himself away in the little room over the garage and Angel - had apparently taken up residence in the basement which was mega weird and she wasn't going to make any sort of comparisons with her husband at all! So far their bedroom still housed just her and Spike, but she wondered how long that would last.

Since they'd trailed back indoors from her abortive attempt to die and join the ex-Slayers, Spike hadn't spoken to her. He and Angel had vanished into the kitchen - she'd heard the ping of the microwave and guessed they were heating blood - but although Angel had come back into the family room to join the endless discussions, Spike had not. Buffy knew he was desperately hurt that she had planned to leave him and even though it hurt her very soul to realise she was the cause, she still felt he should have seen the logic in her actions. All she'd wanted to do was find a way of saving Joyce and Billy. She'd thought her death a small price of pay. What was truly annoying her was that if the roles had been reversed, Spike would have given up his life for her, Shanny or the twins without a second thought. But for some reason, her doing so was considered a sort of betrayal.

Willow and Giles had tactfully not commented on her behaviour, although Buffy could see that her former Watcher was aching to give her his opinion - and it was obvious that it wouldn't be a favourable one. The only bright spot in the darkness was Shanny. For the first time since she was a little girl, her distant and defensive attitude had softened a little. The fact that her mother was prepared to die for the twins had made a deep impression and Buffy wondered if perhaps there was a chance, even if a slim one, that when the twins were back home, she and her daughter could start to be friends.

"Have you made any progress?" she asked Willow as her friend pushed her chair back from the computer and ran shaking fingers through the short hair that was now dyed an even brighter red than it had been naturally.

"Yes - and no." She looked up as Buffy bit back a remark. "Buffy, it isn't simple. Giles agrees, don't you?"

The elderly Englishman sitting next to her nodded. "We know you went somewhere all those years ago and talked to the First Slayer. We've tried to find that place because there's a chance that's where the Slayers took the twins, that but so far with little success."

"So - what's the good news?" Shanny was standing in the doorway, listening. "I've been trying to phone David - no, listen, Mom! I need him here. He's the twins' father in every possible way except physically! But there's no cell phone signal and the storm last night must have taken down the land lines."

Buffy bit her lip and fought back her first response. She liked David Green but the thought of him arriving, demanding explanations, his bewilderment when they had no news of the children was too exhausting to consider. It was at times like this when the void between the Slayer/Vampire/Demon world and that of ordinary people widened to a vast distance. It was one that could never be bridged by easy platitudes and simple answers.

Angel looked up, frowning. His son Connor was the twins' father and didn't even know it. He wanted to insist that he be contacted, but at the scowl on Buffy's face, he decided to bide his time. But when they got the twins back, he knew he would not rest until he united his son with his grandson. And the girl, too, of course, but it was the memory of Billy with his uncanny resemblance to Darla that burnt into his mind.

"Well, the good news is that we've realised we need more help."

Buffy groaned. "Will, who is going to be better than you? Time's rushing past. They've been gone hours already. We can't afford to send for some witch who's probably on the other side of the world."

"Yes, you're quite right." Giles smiled wearily. "But we're not going to call for another witch - what we need is another Slayer."

"Faith? Or do you mean one of the new girls? Is there anyone strong enough to help?" Buffy was puzzled. She'd rather lost track of who was doing what in the Slayer world these days. She and Spike lived quietly; she patrolled most evenings but there was little vampire or demon activity in their neighbourhood - Charks excepted, of course.

"Buffy, you sort of had the right idea earlier," Willow said. "But instead of dying and joining the Slayers, we reckon we can call one of them to come back to us."

Buffy felt a frisson of excitement creep across her skin. She heard the kitchen door open behind her and knew Spike was standing there, listening. She waited for his touch on her shoulder, his hand on hers, but nothing came and she shivered, this time with unhappiness.

"Which one?" he said quietly.

"I think I can do a summoning spell," Willow said and laughed bitterly. "Of course, it would have been so useful to have had Joyce here. She could have done it with a snap of her fingers, but as she isn't, I shall have to manage."

"Buffy and Spike have known three dead Slayers personally," Giles said. "Of course, I have known girls who I looked after before Buffy, but Willow and I are fairly certain that the link between the twins and Buffy must be stronger than mine with my ex-charges."

"There was a Chinese girl," Spike said, "and Robin's mother - "

"And Kendra," Buffy finished.

Willow nodded enthusiastically. "As Spike killed the first two, we reckoned that it might be better if we summoned Kendra back to this world and asked her why they want the twins and where they are."

"And beg her to bring them back," Shanny added and sinking into a chair, buried her face in her hands. "They must come back. Mom, Dad, please get my children back for me! They'll be so scared, so upset. Oh God, please, everyone, get the twins back."

Joyce Summers-Green woke up feeling irritated and uncomfortable. Someone was shouting her name inside her head and her bed felt hard and scratchy, as if she was lying on the ground, which was plain silly because she was in Granny's spare bedroom and twin was in the bed next to hers and - her eyes flew open as memory flooded back.

Billy was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, looking bored. "Jeez, you're awake at last! I've been shouting for ages."

Joyce rolled over and stood up. This world was all brown sand with vast rocky outcrops of red stone outlined against an orange sky. She could see for miles and miles and there was nothing – no buildings, no roads, no people. In her opinion it was a very boring world.

"Where did the women go?"

Billy shrugged. "No idea. We followed them – which I think was the dumbest thing you've done for ages - and then I woke up here in the desert and you just laid there snoring like a little pig!"

Joyce stuck her tongue out at him then said, "Are we still in that bubble thingie?" She walked forwards a few steps and nothing stopped her.

"No. It's gone. And they've gone and I'm hungry. Take us home. Mom will be sooo cross that we left."

"But we haven't seen anything yet."

Billy frowned. He wasn't exactly worried but there was a very odd feeling about this place. His witchy twin had taken them to some very odd worlds in the past but he'd never felt like this about them. Wherever they'd gone, there had been some sort of life, however weird it had been. But this place - he stretched out feelers from his mind but apart from Joyce, there was no living creature anywhere in this vast, barren place. But – he frowned – he still had the sensation that they weren't alone.

"I'm thirsty." Joyce shut her eyes and poked hard with her mind at the ground near her feet. A small crack appeared, then another and within minutes a spring of clear water began to flow.

"Do you reckon it's OK to drink?" Billy said dubiously.

Joyce shrugged. "I didn't ask for poisoned water, stupid. It's clean." They drank, then watched intrigued as the water continued to gush, spilling across the hard ground, making little streams and rivulets, pools and spreading puddles. With a single thought, they kicked off their trainers and splashed around until Billy said, "Hey, it's getting deeper. We'd better get out. Or you could just stop it."

They splashed to the shallows and onto dry land, but it was obvious that the water was spreading faster and faster, almost as fast as they could walk backwards away from it.

"So – dumbass – are you stopping it or not?"

"It's kind of pretty," Joyce said evasively and yelled as her brother pinched her arm hard.

"You've done it again! You made a magic and can't undo it. Look, forget the water, just get us home."

Joyce stuck out her bottom lip. "I don't see why you're all cranky about a little water. Reversing magic is hard and makes my head ache and anyways I want to see where those women have gone. If you're chicken, I'll send you back by yourself!"

Billy ignored the chicken comment: he knew he shouldn't, but he needed to know what his twin was really thinking so he peered carefully inside her mind, picked his way through the usual chaos and found nothing that worried him too much. There was no scared thoughts about not being able to get home, just endless curiosity and general twiny weirdness.

He turned away from the spreading lake and started to climb a slope that lead up into higher ground.

"They were stupid, those women," Joyce said, following him. "They were calling for me to go with them and now they've vanished. Wish they hadn't come to Granny's. Bet there's a big row going on at home about them. I reckon we should just stay away until it's died down and that Angel man has gone."

"You didn't like him, did you? He was OK. Bit soppy inside his head, but vampire like Grandad."

"He had stupid hair," Joyce said witheringly. "And he kept looking at you as if you were made of glass and would break if you so much as breathed heavy. I think he's one of those perverts we learnt about at school."

Billy shrugged. "He was dreadfully muddled. He kept thinking our Dad was his son, which is just silly because we know Grandad Green; he lives in Montana. We visited him once and rode ponies, remember?"

Joyce nodded. "Old people get muddled. He's probably - ooh, at least fifty! Ancient. But I still don't like him."

Billy didn't reply. He knew there was something odd about the Angel man and it irritated him that he couldn't work it out. Why should he think his son was their Dad? And who was Darla, a lady who the Angel man thought about all the time?

Panting slightly, they reached the top of the hill and stared out across miles of barren land.

"There should be houses and roads and fields with cows and horses," Joyce said at last, flinging herself to the ground. "This feels all wrong. Shall I magic some animals?"

Billy shook his head. "What would they live on? There's no grass. Remember we had to send the penguins back last year."

Joyce suddenly yawned. "I'm so tired." She curled up at his side and within seconds was fast asleep. Billy sat as still as possible, although his arm was aching with her weight against it. He felt tired, too, but he had the oddest feeling that he shouldn't sleep. There was that weird sensation in his head that they weren't alone – but they were – this new talent he'd discovered he had for sensing other minds, told him so. But – the mixed genes of vampires, Slayer and common-sense humans refused to let him relax. He reckoned it was like a sort of phone signal; because he'd just learnt how to use it, he wasn't very good yet. Perhaps it needed to grow and become stronger.

He nudged Joyce awake. "Listen – if I do a big think thing, can you sort of grab hold of it and make it - sort of more?"

The little girl rubbed her eyes. "Suppose so. But how do I get in your head to hear it?"

Billy shrugged. "Just as if we're talking without speaking but sort of more, I reckon."

Joyce sat up. "OK, but why?"

"Just do it."

They stared at each other, two minds working together. At first nothing happened, then Joyce realised what she had to do and there was the signal, beaming outwards from Billy and she flung her mind onto it, boosting it into a vibration that made the air shimmer.

And there they were! Everywhere – all round them – hundreds and hundreds of women, staring, waiting. And all Billy could think of was that this was why Joyce couldn't get them home; the women were blocking the magic, surrounding them on all sides and he could see no way of escaping.

tbc


	19. Chapter 19 Old Times

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

Chapter 19

"This is just like old times!" Willow's eyes shone with excitement as she stared at Buffy across the jumble of ingredients spread out on the basement floor. "Magic and charms - you and me and Giles - "

Buffy was tempted to remark that she couldn't remember a time when their group had also included Spike and Angel at the same time, but she wanted to do nothing that would upset Willow, distract her from her task of calling up Kendra, the Slayer they had known all those many years ago. The red-head was so delighted to be doing this magic; it was almost as if the reason for it - bringing the twins home from wherever the group of Slayers had taken them - had slid, conveniently, to the back of her mind.

Shanny was sitting on the basement stairs, her hands twisting uselessly together in her lap one moment, then plucking at the skin round her fingers the next. Buffy shuddered and for a second, tears burnt her eyes. It had been a very long time since she'd seen her daughter doing that - now it came flooding back to her; the little girl hidden away in a corner while her parents killed demons in front of her; a little girl tearing at the skin on her fingers until they bled. Why hadn't she and Spike seen how unhappy she was? And surely, even though they hadn't realised, they'd known that she didn't fit into their world and, loving her so much, had sent her back to the States to keep her safe, not to get rid of her, as Shanny so obviously thought.

Giles was fussing with a bowl of herbs in some foul stew Willow had made, stirring them round and round with cinnamon stick, the smell drifting around the airless little room.

Buffy found herself staring at him: here was another person who was thriving on the situation. An old man, side-lined by life, no longer a Watcher, no longer asked for advice or help, and here he was, busy, happy, oh paying lip service to the gravity of the situation but secretly enjoying every second. She wanted to shake him and Willow, make them understand how she was feeling.

A voice behind her, a hand laid briefly on her shoulder - "It's no good getting angry with them, pet. They're enjoying themselves too much."

She didn't turn, just raised her hand to cover the fingers at her neck, but their cool touch was already gone. "They're both living in the past," she murmured. "Will is back when we were eighteen and as for Giles - "

"Rupert just wants to be wanted again. To be useful. To have a role in life." Spike's voice darkened. "As we all do."

Now Buffy turned; she had to make him understand what she had done by going up against the Charks. That getting the twins back was worth her death if that was the price she had to pay. But he'd already stepped back into the shadows and was now standing next to Angel, their heads together, as if the only comfort he could get was from his grand-sire.

'So maybe Willow is right and it is like old times,' Buffy thought bitterly. 'Spike tells me he hates Angel, but sometimes it seems as if the bond between them is stronger than ours.' And she felt a wave of trepidation flood over her. If Spike wouldn't listen, if he felt she no longer loved him, that their marriage was over, would he turn to the one person who truly knew what he was feeling? 'But Angel doesn't,' she whispered to herself. 'Angel cares about himself first. He always has.'

She stared back into the shadows - two vampires, two men - one she had loved with all the passing passion of a young girl, the other she still loved with all the fire and depth of a woman. Dark hair and blond close together - she couldn't hear what they were saying but suddenly she felt a wave of anger for both of them. They're as bad as each other, she thought furiously. All hurt feelings and drama queeny behaviour. When all they should be thinking about were their joint grandchildren. Two nine-year-olds, lost out in some terrifying alternate world, lost and frightened and although Joyce was an amazing kid, they were at the mercy of powers much stronger than theirs...

..."Why do they just stand there, looking at us?" Joyce glared out across the rocky, barren land towards the women who were standing in a circle, surrounding the twins. They were weirdly silent; there was no noise, not a sound coming from them.

Billy frowned. "No idea. You're the one with the witchy brain, you figure it out."

"They look creepy now we can see them and they're much closer. I don't like them. I'm hungry and I want to go home."

"But you can't get us home, can you?" He turned to look at his twin sister: there was dirt streaking across her forehead, her jeans were torn and she looked pale and tired. That last magic act seemed to have drained all the energy out of her and he felt a trickle of worry. Joyce had always been able to get them out of any trouble her magic got them into; but they were only kids and Billy was beginning to think that some problems couldn't be solved so easily.

Joyce picked at a scab on her elbow. "Can so!"

"No, you can't, Twin! I know you can't. And I think it's because of those...those women. They're sort of blocking out the signals or the magic, or something."

Joyce looked up, interested again. "Well, we did that big think thing to make us see them. Can't we do the same thing if I wish us home?"

"OK. We can try. And we'd better hurry, they're getting closer and closer."

The circle of women was closing in on them. Slowly but surely, they were inching forward across the rocks, their gaze never leaving the twins and all Billy could think of was a film he'd seen on the TV once of a lioness stalking her prey with just that same look of concentration on her face.

...In the basement of Buffy's house, Angel and Spike were standing watching Willow and Giles prepare for calling Kendra back to life.

"So, what's it like, being able to go outside, sit in the sun? Never seen a vamp with a suntan before."

Angel shrugged. "OK. I've got a boat. I go fishing."

"Fishing?"

"It's - relaxing. I'd like...I'd like to take Billy out some day - do you think Buffy would agree?"

"Shouldn't you ask would Shanny and David agree? I suppose you think you can introduce the twins to your son while they're not around."

Angel frowned at the thin, tense figure at his side. He still couldn't get used to the grey hairs amongst the blond. "They should meet him, but even I can see that would be difficult. No, I just thought Billy - "

"You're not interested in Joyce at all, are you?" Spike sounded intrigued.

Angel laughed. "Of course I am, but she's too much like you. Like talking to a razor. Billy - even you must see he's the image of Darla. He takes my breath away."

Spike massaged the back of his neck. Any mention of that vampire could still make him shudder. "So not like your son?"

There was no reply. Angel had no words to describe Connor. Their relationship was too complicated, too violent, laced with tragedy and horror. How would he react to knowing he had two children? Would he want to know, would he care?

"All these years and you've never got in touch."

The words sounded calm and even but Angel had known this man for too many years and could hear the hurt threading through. "Get in touch? Spike, you and Buffy - well, it was always you and Buffy. I never saw myself as just a friend of the family. And anyway - "

"Yes?"

The reply was so quiet, Spike almost missed it. "I always knew where you were. How you were."

"Do you think this magic will work, Dad?"

The vampires spun round. Shanny was looking at them, her eyes dry but red-rimmed from crying.

"Your mom thinks it will," Spike said tenderly.

"Mom always thinks she knows best," Shanny replied.

"She usually does." And there was a silence as they realised both men had spoken together.

Shanny's fingers twisted together. "She was prepared to die to get to them. That's..."

"Stupid!" Spike snapped.

"Brave!" Angel replied.

"I would do the same," Shanny said, tilting her chin and glaring at them. "And when this...this Kendra gets here, if she does...then I'm not letting her go back without me. And there's no way you two or Mom can stop me."

Before Spike could reply, Willow and Giles called everyone to sit in a circle on the floor. Willow leant forward and lit three deep purple candles, their smell reminding Buffy vividly of hospitals. Giles had placed the foul stew he'd been preparing in the centre and handed round spoons. "Everyone has to eat a mouthful and inhale the smoke from the candles as Willow does the calling charm. We think, well, we're almost certain that this will bring Kendra from the other side to talk to us," he said enthusiastically. "But Buffy, Shanny, she'll only be here for a very short while, so please, let me ask the questions. We're only going to get one shot at this."

Angel moved uncomfortably, trying to get his long limbs into a different position. He envied Spike's ability to sit cross-legged, but then the boy had always been flexible! He crushed memories that flooded his brain - those days were long gone. He sighed; he had grave doubts that this magic of Willow's was going to work. He glanced at Shanny who was hunched over in a tense ball at his side. He found this woman disturbing. She was nothing like Buffy or Spike. There was no sign on her face of the emotion that had to be racing through her body. Only her fingers, with the nails bitten and ragged, gave any indication of her emotions.

Buffy, sitting between Willow and Spike, seethed with impatience. This was all taking too long. What if Kendra wouldn't tell them what the Slayers wanted with the twins. What if they never got them back? She shuddered with a cold terror that she'd never felt before in all her years as a Slayer. If the twins vanished for ever, she knew Shanny would never speak to her again and she had no idea how Spike would react. One thing was certain, all their lives would change completely.

But now Willow was chanting and the bowl of foul stew was being passed from hand to hand. Eagerly, Buffy scooped up a spoonful of disgusting mush and swallowed it down as if it was ambrosia. Willow's chanting got louder and louder and the disinfectant smell from the purple candles grew stronger and stronger. Then, suddenly, in the middle of the circle, a small, swirling silver circle began to whirl on the floor: it grew larger and larger, the basement filling with smoke that stung their eyes and throats. And then, as the purple candles flickered and went out, a dark, shimmering figure appeared in the circle. Crouching low, ready to attack - Kendra.


	20. Chapter 20 Darkness

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

Chapter 24: Darkness

Kendra! The tension in the basement soared to new heights and Buffy choked back a shout of success as the shimmering figure in the silver circle faded, grew strong, then faded again, wreathed in smoke. "No! She's going!" she yelled. "Willow - do something - stop her!"

Giles started to chant but with an imperious gesture, Willow waved him to silence, threw a handful of twigs and dust into the diminishing circle of light and stretching out her hands, shouted words that Buffy's brain couldn't process. She leant forward, her fingers sliding into the silver smoke, seeming to pull it apart until it grew and swirled once more and Kendra's figure took shape again.

Buffy stared at the girl she had known for such a short time. Her eyes were open but she didn't seem to see those who'd called her back from the dead. She was holding a stake in one hand and a wicked looking knife in the other and Buffy had the strongest feeling that at the slightest sound, she would burst into deadly action.

"Kendra!" Giles spoke sharply. "This is Rupert Giles. I'm sure you remember me. Kendra - we need to talk to you. This is urgent. Please, speak to me."

There was no reply. Not by a twitch or flicker of an eyelash did the ex-Slayer show that she'd heard him.

Willow frowned with the concentration of holding the silver smoke circle open. "Kendra - this is about the twins. Buffy's grandchildren. Why do you and the other Slayers want them? Where have you taken them? Please, bring them back."

Angel stood up suddenly. "She can't hear you!"

"I don't think she can see us, either." Spike leapt to his feet and peered through the smoke at Kendra's face.

"Willow!" Shanny's voice cracked with anguish. "Make her hear!"

Buffy glanced at her friend: her face was white, deep lines scoring down from the corners of the mouth. She'd bitten her bottom lip and blood trickled down her chin. Trembling, she swayed from side to side with the effort of keeping the silver smoke circle open. She was failing and knew it and the surge of bitterness that swept over her made her hold on the magic weaken even more. And what was worse was that she knew that if Joyce had been here, she'd have effortlessly held the circle open and wonder what all the fuss was about.

"I...I...can't...do any more...sorry, Buffy...I...can't..."

"Slayer!" Spike's voice cut through the mist of despair that was beginning to surround her and his hand was cold on the back of her neck. "Kendra can't hear them, but she'll hear you. Slayer to Slayer. It's our only chance to save the twins."

"Listen, that could be extremely dangerous," Angel spun round to her but before he could say any more, Buffy was moving. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked calmly into the smoke, through the surrounding wreaths of silver, feeling the electricity of the magic shudder over her skin, her hair crackle and heat scorch her with icy fingers.

Then all was quiet - the faces outside the smoke faded away and there was just her and Kendra, close enough to touch. Then the young Slayer blinked and her eyes focussed on Buffy. For a long second she looked puzzled and Buffy realised she was taking in the fact that this Buffy was much older than the girl she'd known all those years ago.

"Buffy?" Her voice sounded uncertain, hoarse, as if it had been a long, long time since she'd spoken.

"Kendra! Listen, I don't know how long we can keep you here. I'm sorry...I'm sure you didn't want to come back. I've been dragged out of heaven once myself...I know how it feels, but Kendra, why do you Slayers want the twins? Where have you taken them? You must let them come home."

"Buffy?"

"Yes! Concentrate, Kendra. I know this is hard for you, but we haven't much time. I must know about the twins. Why do the ex-Slayers want Joyce? Or is it Billy? Spike thinks it's Billy."

The puzzled expression deepened and the expression in her eyes changed, as if she were looking a long way into the distance. "Buffy..." she shook her head as if to shake away cobwebs..."Listen - whatever has happened to your grandchildren, it has nothing to do with me or any Slayer."

"What?" The roaring in her head was from the blood pounding through her veins. Her skin burnt, hot with panic against the cold of the silver smoke. Even the magic could do nothing to cool her. "You're lying!"

Dark eyes gazed at her with cool compassion. "No, I am not. I do not lie. You know that. I never lied to you."

"So - who's taken the twins?"

Once again Kendra's gaze left Buffy and travelled somewhere far away. "I cannot see them," she said at last. "Just darkness - great darkness - and sorrow and pain and guilt. Follow the darkness and you will find your kin."

The silver smoke started to thicken as she spoke and instinctively Buffy reached out to grab her arm, stop her from leaving. But it was no use. Kendra grew smaller and fainter and as the last wisp of mist vanished from the basement, it took her with it, leaving Buffy standing, hand outstretched, pleading, begging for her to come back.

...Joyce Summers Green chewed at her thumbnail and gazed consideringly at the circle of women surrounding her and Billy. "They haven't moved for ages," she said. "Perhaps they're asleep."

Her twin frowned. They had tried to do what Joyce called "their big think thing" ten minutes ago but it hadn't worked. She'd tried to magic them home, using the power of his thoughts to amplify the charm, but nothing had happened. Well, that wasn't really true, he thought, uneasily. They'd both felt a sort of shifting feeling in the air around them. There were no words to describe it but, as Joyce had said, it made them both feel sick and she didn't want to do that again.

"I don't think they're asleep; their eyes are open."

Joyce jumped up from the hot rocks they were sitting on and clapped her hands loudly, shouting "Go away!" at the top of her voice. Billy sighed; he was quite sure that would do no good, but he also felt that his twin was very tired and getting more and more unhappy as the minutes ticked past and she couldn't get them home. He knew, more by instinct that anything else, that this was one of the first times when her use of magic hadn't worked out as she wanted and he could feel that she was scared.

"Mom's going to be so angry when we get home," she said now. "I bet I get grounded for weeks, perhaps months. Oh, I do wish Daddy was here."

Privately, although Billy adored his father, he wished that Grandad Spike or even that odd Angel man were here with them. He didn't think his dad would be a lot of help with this problem.

Suddenly, with a flash of purple light, a small metal key appeared on the ground in front of them.

"Did you do that?" Billy asked.

"No, but - " she was reaching for it when she yelled and grabbed at her head where a flashing pain had scorched through her brain. "Ouch! You beast, Billy! That hurt."

"Sorry, I couldn't get the words out fast enough. We mustn't touch it, Twin."

Grinning, Joyce waved a hand casually at the key and it vanished.

"Where did you send it?"

"I don't know." She frowned. "I was thinking how hungry I was and that if we were home Mom might be cooking fried chicken and then - that was odd - there was like a sort of path, a track, oh, I don't know how to explain. It appeared and I threw the key down it as hard as I could. But it's gone now. Hey, what do you think will arrive next? It might be puppies or kittens. Or - shall I send a big tiger? That would tell whoever it is not to mess with us."

Billy sighed. He hadn't meant Joyce to vanish the key. After all, if someone sent them a key, that probably meant there was a lock somewhere that it would open. And perhaps that was the way home. But it was too late now. The key had gone.

They needed a plan. Just sitting here, waiting wasn't right: he decided to send his thoughts out to the women surrounding them. Surely one of them would reply. He shut his eyes and concentrated, expecting to hear a jumble of confused sounds. Then he shuddered, suddenly scared. There was nothing out there! No thoughts, no brain patterns, no minds to read, just a dreadful sort of darkness that took his thoughts and swallowed them so they disappeared without a trace.

...

"Tell us again, Buffy, exactly what Kendra said." Giles was sipping coffee, his expression saying quite plainly that he wished it was tea. He looked and sounded exhausted.

Buffy took a deep breath. She must have repeated the words a hundred times but there was no point in getting irritated. They were all in a sort of shock. And Rupert Giles was a very elderly man now. She was scared the stress would damage him.

"Mom, I can't believe the Slayers haven't got the twins," Shanny had said the same sentence every thirty seconds since Buffy walked back out of the smoke. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. "That was bad enough, but at least, being Slayers, I thought the kids would be safe, in some weird way. No Slayer would let anything bad happen to them. But if those women weren't Slayers, what were they?"

Buffy could sense the horror and bewildered pain in her daughter and felt she would have cut off her arm to be able to give her some hope, some support. Instinctively she reached out a hand and felt Spike grasp it. Even if he was still furious with her for wanting to die, he was still there, at her back. "I have no idea. Kendra talked about darkness, sorrow, pain and guilt. So Giles, where does that take us?"

Giles glanced across the family room to where Willow was lying, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, her face paper white under the hair that had been dyed back to its original redness. He envied her: he'd give everything to climb into bed, pull the covers over his head and sleep for a million years. This call to action after so many years had seemed like such and adventure when it started. He'd thought that together, he and Willow would soon sort out Buffy's problems and she'd be grateful, want him back in her life, even if not advising, at least in some sort of elderly statesman role. But they'd failed and he could see no way forward.

"Demons." Spike threw the word into the conversation like a well aimed bomb. "Come on, luv, no one else is being brave enough to say it. If they're not Slayers, they must be demons of some sort."

"Shape-changing ones? We've come across several of those over the years." Angel was the only one in the room who didn't look or sound tired.

Buffy felt the first faint flicker of hope. "OK, demons. I can cope with demons. Been doing that for years. We find them, fight them, kill them and bring the twins home."

"But how? Mom, it's great saying you'll kill everything as usual, but we still don't know what demon is doing this or where it lives! That Kendra was our only hope and all she's given us is a lot of words and nothing sensible. Oh, I hate your world so much. I hate all this magic and weirdness, I always have. I just want my children back!"

Buffy stood up abruptly. Angry words tried to force their way out _"Listen, Shanny. Getting upset isn't going to help anyone. Look, I think we all need to get some sleep. We're not thinking straight." _But the look on her daughter's face tore at her heart. She cupped the pale face between her hands, pushing back the soft brown hair that fell into Shanny's eyes as soon as it escaped from its clips.

"Listen - I know this is terrible for you but your Dad and me will get them back. I realise you're still angry with me but please, please, just this one last time, trust me. I've never lied to you. We will find the twins, wherever they are."

...Billy Summers Green woke up with a start. He hadn't meant to fall asleep but it had been such a long day and he'd run out of helpful things to say to his twin. Joyce was still sleeping, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

He lifted his head, aware that the brightness of day had vanished and that a soft darkness was creeping over the sky, covering the rocky ground with vast shadows.

"Joyce - Twin - wake up!" he commanded inside her head, pushing aside the jumble of dancing kittens, honey popcorn and ideas for swimming deep down to the bottom of the ocean to talk to fish.

"What?"

"They've gone! Look, the weird women have gone. We're alone."

Joyce struggled to her feet, rubbing her eyes. "It's almost dark. Gee, we've been here all day? Mom will go crazy."

"Quick - let's try the thinky going home spell again, before something else happens."

Joyce bit her lip. It wasn't that she didn't want to get home to mom and Granny Buffy and Grandad Spike, but she'd hated that horrible falling sensation that had happened the last time she tried. And what if she couldn't do it? Twin was relying on her and for the first time in her nine years, Joyce began to doubt her own abilities. She'd never thought about the witchy thing in detail before, she'd just done it. But every time Billy asked her how, it seemed to get vaguer and harder to explain.

But she clasped his extremely grubby hand and shutting her eyes, remembered with a sudden pulse of pleasure that she'd sent that key spinning away down some sort of mental pathway, so obviously she could still do whatever she wanted as long as she tried hard enough. So she did.

And without a sound, the darkness flowed up and over the rocky hillside that now echoed with emptiness.

tbc


	21. Chapter 21 Big Difference

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

Chapter 21. Big Difference

Shanny Summers Green wearily made her way down to the basement of her mom's house. It was two in the morning but she couldn't sleep. Oh, she well understood - she'd been told enough times! - that her parents, Willow, Giles and even Angel felt that sleeping made you stronger, more able to deal with the problems that the next day might bring. But while her children were missing, she couldn't just shut her eyes and drift off. She might dream that everything was all right and then wake to - well, this was a living nightmare; she needed no sleep to bring it on.

So she'd cleaned the kitchen, washed dishes, sorted the shelves - her mom and dad had no idea of putting spices and tins in sensible order. She'd even squeezed some oranges for breakfast the next morning. But then when the kitchen floor was so clean you could actually see your face in the tiles, she'd brought brushes and cloths downstairs to tackle the mess that had been left on the basement floor when Kendra had been called.

Shanny sighed as she picked up the bowl that held the rest of the uneaten magic stewy-soup. Blackened and congealed, she might as well throw it straight out into the trash. And there was candle wax everywhere! She'd often noticed when she was a small child that after magic happened there was a mess left behind. She used to watch her Uncle Andrew tackle it, muttering under his breath because he hated disorder. And when she was big enough, she'd helped him, never realising that most little girls of six or seven were not at that moment scraping demon entrails from the floor of some cave and tidying them into the garbage. She missed Uncle Andrew.

Suddenly, as she pushed some paper aside, Shanny hesitated. Lying there was a small metal key. It looked old and of one thing she was very certain - it hadn't been there when they all left the basement earlier.

Picking it up, she felt a sudden surge of feeling rush through her body - longing, despair, hatred, love, all mixed together in a maelstorm of passion. She screamed, felt herself swaying and tried to drop the key, but somehow her fingers closed even tighter around it and then, just as she was falling, falling, an arm was flung around her shoulders and Angel was there, pulling her out of the magic circle Willow had created, holding her until the world stop revolving and she could feel the floor beneath her feet once more.

"Thank you," she gasped.

"What happened?"

Shanny forced her fingers to open and showed him the key laying on her palm. "I found it in the circle, picked it up and then - it's magic, isn't it?"

Angel tried to take it but it clung to Shanny's skin and he was afraid to force it away. "Are we sure Willow or Giles didn't drop it earlier?"

Shanny shook her head. "I was the last out of the basement. It wasn't here then, I'd swear."

"So someone, something's sent it." He gazed at Buffy's daughter, his dark eyes brooding. "Joyce? Billy?"

Shanny shook her head. "It doesn't feel like the twins. Someone different, someone - oh, in a lot of pain. Angel, it's horrible. If this thing has the twins, is this some sort of message? What does it want us to do with the key?"

"If there's a key, then somewhere there's a lock!" Spike was coming down the stairs, bare-chested, bare foot, his jeans slung precariously round his hips. Buffy was only seconds behind him, her short robe pulled tight around her waist.

"We couldn't sleep," Buffy said, making a statement that was so unnecessary that Shanny almost laughed out loud. She was quite certain that sleeping had definitely not been happening in her parents' bedroom.

But she would have been wrong. Buffy had found their bedroom empty when she came out of the shower. The drapes were pulled back to let the moonlight flood in and as she went to draw them together, she glanced out and realised Spike was lying on his back in the yard, his hair silvered by the moonlight.

She didn't stop to think - all she could feel was worry and fear. Ever since they'd been together, he'd tried so hard to adapt to living life as she did, awake during the day and sleeping at night. But she knew he still found it hard. He was a creature of the dark and often when he'd been worried or angry she'd found him out in the yard, staring up at the stars, asking them a silent question. She fled down stairs and out into the night. Dropping on her knees next to him, reaching out to touch his bare chest, she whispered, "You all OK and everything?"

"Worried, pet?" There was a rasp of sarcasm in his tone that grated on her nerves.

"No. Yes. No, of course not. If you prefer sleeping out here on the ground by yourself rather than in bed next to me, then fine. I'll leave you to it." She started to get up, then a slim hand grasped her wrist and pulled her down to lay beside him. For a second she struggled, then gave in, wriggling away a little so they didn't touch.

Buffy gazed up at the stars, so many light years away. It was late and she was tired, but sleep seemed a long way off. Another night nearly gone and the twins still missing and Shanny holding onto her sanity by a thread. Willow and Giles exhausted, Angel looming around and Spike - still not talking to her: still furious that she'd tried to get herself killed to become a dead Slayer, an invisible wall of hurt feelings between them.

"Spike, please stop with the angry vampire routine! We can't be divided at the moment. We need all our strengths to get the twins back and you and me working together will always be the most powerful weapon we can muster."

There was no reply, then, "I think it's an angry husband routine, rather than angry vampire. I believed that husband and wife came before Slayer and vampire, but now I know that's just how I think. You see things differently."

"Do you think it was easy for me?" The words broke from her like shattered glass. "To leave you without even saying a proper goodbye? I thought you, of all people, would have understood. It seemed like my only chance of getting the twins back."

"Ah, you see, pet, there's that little word - 'my' only chance. Not 'our' only chance. Big difference."

Buffy could feel the temper that for the past few days had simmered just beneath the surface, bubble up. She hoisted herself onto one elbow and glared down at the face she had loved for so long. "This is stupid! Jeez, Spike, we've been married for years. We've had a child, fought in countless battles. You know you mean the world to me. I refuse to believe all this moodiness is just because I didn't tell you about the Charks! So tell me what the heck's got into you because we need to have both our minds sharp tomorrow if we're going to get the twins back. And...and...and if you don't, I'm going to punch you somewhere it will really hurt!"

Spike felt his lips twitch against his will. Typical Buffy, thinking she could solve every problem by punching it into submission. He sighed silently: he knew very well what lay at the heart of his despair - Angel. Not perhaps the vampire himself - although Spike admitted he wouldn't be the first to acknowledge the power of his attraction! - no, it was what he represented. Life in the sunlight - money, fancy clothes, big car, holidays abroad, yachts and planes and all the toys rich people played with. Angel or someone similar could offer Buffy all of these things. Instead she had a small, run-down house, little money and a vampire husband who could give her nothing except love. In his darkest moments he wondered if that was enough - indeed, should it be enough? Was it all his fault that she was trapped in this marriage? If he'd had the strength years ago to walk away, would she have finally found happiness elsewhere? If he really loved her as much as he believed he did, surely he would let her go, wouldn't he?

"So? Are you going to tell me?"

Spike rolled over on his elbow to face his wife, then froze: his vampire hearing had heard raised voices that no human could. "Later, pet. Shanny needs us."

...

Billy Summers-Green was aware that he was awake, that he was holding his twin's hand and that it was very cold. And dark. The sort of dark that made him wonder if he'd gone blind because there was no light, nothing, just blackness in front of his eyes.

He reached out inside his head and poked at Joyce, who was, he was annoyed to realise, fast asleep. Or maybe she was unconscious. He prodded her again and felt a wave of relief pour through him when her normal grumpy waking up feelings happened.

"I can't see!" she said.

"It's OK, we're not blind, or at least, I don't think we are. It's just dark. Where are we? I thought you were sending us back."

"I was! I did! I sent that little key home and when I realised how to do it, I willed us back to Granny's house. Hey, maybe we're in the basement. Maybe the power's off. Let's shout and someone will come."

Billy hushed her inside his head. He had a bad feeling that calling out wasn't the smartest thing they could do. And he was sure this wasn't Granny's basement. That smelt of oil and laundry stuff; this place had a totally different smell and at first he couldn't think what it was, then he remembered some of the very old books that Joyce had found in Auntie Willow's house. When you opened them, this smell seeped up from the old, crinkled, stained pages. And for no good reason, Billy shuddered.

"Can you magic us a flashlight?"

"Oh - " There was a long pause and then, "No. But - hey - look, I can do sparkles!"

The air around them was filled with tiny gold and silver lights, blinking on and off, and in their faint light, Billy could at least see Joyce's grubby face. "OK, better than nothing. Can you wish us out of here?"

Joyce shook her head; she'd already tried. "Perhaps I'm not going to be a witch any more," she said suddenly. "I can't do any of the things I used to do."

Billy's thoughts slid silently into her head and realised that although her words had sounded as if she didn't care, his twin was really scared, and that scared him more than the dark. Now was not a good time for Joyce to stop believing in her powers.

"Well, maybe you grow out of it, like your jeans and shoes. But hey, let's get home first, OK."

"But how if I can't magic us back?"

Billy took a deep breath. He had no idea what to say to her and knew if he barricaded his thoughts to her, she'd know something was awfully wrong. Then..."Billy..." it was the faintest whisper inside his brain, a tingling, scratching sound that made his skin crawl. "Billy!" There is was again. Someone, something, was calling his name.

...

Spike stared down at the little key still sitting in Shanny's hand. "Demon sent?" He raised an eyebrow at Angel who shrugged.

"Could be. Shanny says she can sense pain and despair. Could be any of a thousand demons we know."

A clatter of feet on the basement steps heralded Willow: Buffy had raced upstairs to fetch her. She still looked exhausted; there were dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn't slept for a week. Cautiously she reached out and touched the key. "That's so weird. It seems to be stuck to your skin, Shanny. Does it hurt?"

The younger woman shook her head. "No but what does it mean? Could it be from the twins?"

"It could be from anything," Buffy said, zipping up the jeans she'd grabbed on the way past her bedroom. Fighting demons dressed only in a short robe was not a good plan. "And you found it there, inside the circle we made for Kendra?"

Shanny nodded.

"OK, then if it came from another reality, it should have left traces of the pathway it used."

" And we can track it backwards. It has to have something to do with Billy and Joyce. I don't believe two demon entities are at work in the same basement." Spike was pulling on the black T-shirt Buffy had brought downstairs. He glanced across at Angel; they both knew that this might be their final chance of ever finding the twins alive.

Willow sat cross-legged on the floor. "If this works, I've no idea where it will lead," she said and throwing back her head, began to chant. Minutes passed and Shanny's hand crept into her mom's. Surely this time they would be successful.

Suddenly the light inside the basement began to flicker, as if the power was being cut. Then, without warning, a dark purple circle appeared on the floor, whirling with energy, sending off little flashes of pure silver that crackled and hissed.

"Is that it?" Shanny gasped.

"We need to step through it." Buffy was busy pushing stakes into her belt. "Shanny, you stay here with Willow and - "

"No! I'm coming with you." Her daughter's voice was hard and flat.

"But - "

"I don't think we have a choice, pet," Spike said swiftly. "I reckon we'll need the key and there's no way we can get it away from Shanny. Liam - " he cast an anguished glance at the other vampire - "We'll need to double up on protecting her."

Angel nodded.

Buffy stared at her husband. He was asking her to put their daughter into danger, the one thing they had spent their whole life trying to avoid. They had lost her once because they'd sent her to live in America while they fought in Europe. But from the expression on his face, she knew her doubts would have to be put aside.

"OK, let's go. Willow, stay here and guard this side of the door with your life. We'll find the twins and get back as soon as we can."

"But Buffy, what if - "

"Saddest words in the English language, Red. Buffy and I never use them." And with a grin, Spike leapt towards the purple doorway and vanished.

tbc


	22. Chapter 22 Into the Dark

Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

Chapter 22 Into the dark

Darkness - all around, overhead, under their feet, cloying black fog, broken only by the gold and silver sparkles, kept alive by Joyce's magic. The twins were walking, hand in hand, into the dark: "Are you sure someone's calling your name?" Joyce asked out loud.

Billy tightened his hold on her hand. "Yes, and it's getting sort of louder. I think we're closer."

Joyce suddenly stopped, pulling him to a standstill. "But we don't know who it is! You said it wasn't Mom or Granny or Grandad Spike. I don't like this place. It isn't home. Let's go back."

"Back where? I know this place feels sort of bad but we're lost, twin, and some grown-up knows we're here and is calling for us. We'll find them and explain. If you sent the key home and we followed, then we must be close to Granny's house. Perhaps we're just down the street, in a school basement or museum or something. We've been gone ages; I expect Mom has organised a search party. OK, we're in trouble, but the important thing is to let them know we're all right."

"Supper would be nice," Joyce muttered. "But I bet we get sent to bed without anything." She totally believed that their mother would be worried sick about Billy, but not so much about her. She let herself be pulled forward again, into the darkness, sending another shower of glittering stars into the air to light their way a fraction. It was so weird that she couldn't do any big magics anymore. It gave her a cold feeling in her stomach. Magic was what she was. A witch was what she was. Being different had been fun, even though being different had meant her mom hadn't loved her as much as Billy. So would she love her more now? The chill in her stomach began to spread through her body. What if Mom still loved Twin more? What if she just didn't like Joyce very much and the not liking had nothing to be do with her being a witch.

With an effort Joyce slammed her thoughts away inside her head and, with a mental twist that her Slayer grandmother would have known all too well, locked the door and refused to confront them. She winced, realising she'd lost one of her shoes and the ground beneath her bare foot was hot and hard - and then, for a split second, she glanced behind them and saw...

A few seconds later, Billy said quietly, "I think it's getter lighter. And the voice is getting louder." As he spoke, the cloying blackness seemed to fade away to midnight, then grey, until just a dull steel coloured mist swirled around them.

"Have you shouted back in your head?" Joyce asked.

"I sort of said, 'Hi there,' a couple of times, but I don't know if they heard me."

"I don't think this place is near Granny Buffy's house. It's mega creepy."

The mist was clearing and they could see they were standing in a long narrow corridor that stretched into the distance. The floor was cold under their feet, the ceiling and walls were sullen metal. It was hard to see where the light was coming from: the glow seemed to come from somewhere up above the ceiling, filtering down.

"So where are they? Where's the person calling your name?" Joyce flung herself down on the floor and rubbed her bare foot. Licking her fingers, she dabbed at a couple of little blisters that had opened under her toes.

Billy kicked moodily at the wall. "I don't know. It's just a voice. It doesn't have a direction. This is all your stupid fault, anyway! You should never have followed those women."

Joyce glanced up at him, startled. Billy never blamed her for her magic - never. So he must be mega upset. And she could guess why. They were used to hearing each other inside their heads, but to hear someone they didn't know: that was horrid. Almost scary.

"Is this place magic?" Billy asked suddenly. "Listen - when I kick the wall, there's no noise."

"Oh weird!"

"Twin - did you, would you have, perhaps you magiced it into being. You could do that if you wanted."

"Why would I want to?" Joyce stood up and kicked off her other shoe. It was far easier to go bare foot. "I want us to be home again, not stuck in some dreary old tunnel."

Billy shrugged. He couldn't put into words what his mind was telling him - that this was a magic place that Joyce had made to keep them safe. No doors, no windows, just metal walls protecting them - from what? It was like a prison, but they were shut inside to keep them out of harm's way. But if Joyce once believed that and stopped feeling safe, then it would vanish and then - Billy shuddered. He didn't want to know what was so bad outside that Joyce had made herself forget, because he was sure it was something dreadful. And what was worse, although he had told twin that he didn't know where the voice was coming from, he wasn't sure if that was the truth. He was almost certain that whoever was calling to him was just outside these magic, metal barriers. And now he was beginning to sense something else - the thoughts that were crying out behind the voice - thoughts that made him wish more than anything else that he was safe home in his bed with the quilt pulled over his head.

...

Buffy hurtled through the portal, close on Spike's heels, crouching low, spike in hand, ready for whatever enemy lay in wait on the other side. And the enemy, if there was one, was hidden in the dark that surged up and around her - thick, cloying fog, the smell made her want to throw up as the dark slid into her nose, her eyes, her ears.

"Spike!" She tried yelling his name, but the black mist flowed relentlessly into her mouth and she choked at the bitter taste.

"Mom!"

All of Buffy's maternal instincts flared into life - Shanny sounded terrified and where the heck was Angel, why wasn't he helping her?

"Shanny! Over here! Walk towards my voice." Buffy reached out her hands, pushing through sullen black fog until they thudded into her daughter's arms. "Here. I've got you. Are you OK?"

"It's vile! What is it? I can't see a thing. Oh Mom, the twins can't be alive in this. They'll be so scared."

"Buffy! Shanny! Spike!" Angel's voice battered through the gloom and then suddenly, he, too was there. Buffy could just make out his familiar outline and tried not to feel bereft when Shanny turned and almost threw herself at him, seeking a protection she obviously felt her mother couldn't give her.

"What is it, Angel, this filthy mist? Can it hurt us?"

"Foul stuff, but no, it's a sort of demon cloaking device, made to stop you getting too close to whoever's using it."

Buffy coughed, shuddering as the mist coated her teeth and tongue and tried to push its way down her throat. "Where's Spike?"

She felt, rather than saw Angel shake his head. "He came through the portal first, didn't he? I thought he'd have had the sense to stay still and wait for the rest of us, but you know your husband, Buffy. William and common-sense, not such great friends!"

"He won't have gone far," she snapped back, but secretly had to admit that in the sort of mood Spike was in, she couldn't trust him to be sensible.

"I don't understand - " Shanny sounded close to tears. "How could the key have been sent from here? We've followed it's path backwards: but there's no one, and no twins!"

"Show it me," Buffy said and reached out to take her daughter's hand, gazing down at the little key that was still fixed in some invisible way to her palm.

"Angel, look, it's moving! Shanny - careful - don't drop it."

"I'm not moving it. It feels weird, it tickles."

"Buffy, I think it's a compass!"

"What?"

"Yes, look, the end with the little ridges - doesn't that look like a finger to you? As if it's pointing?"

Buffy nodded. "Makes sense - if someone or something is trying to make contact with us, then showing us the way will help."

"Do you think it will lead us to the twins?" Shanny said, a break in her voice.

Angel shrugged. "I can't promise that, Shanny, but it's the only clue we've got."

"Then hurry, let's go! Mom, come on, this way."

"Wait up, Shan. Your dad's here somewhere. If we get too far away, he'll never find us in this fog."

"I'm going now! You can wait for Dad if you want. Angel, are you coming with me?"

"No, listen to me. We mustn't split up. Spike will turn up any minute. He can always find me, wherever I am."

Shanny hesitated: she longed to say, yes, he can always find you, but can he find me? If finding was based on how much you loved someone, on how the strange links between two people worked, then her mom and dad would always come together. But she was outside that magic circle and always had been.

"You wait, Mom. Angel and I are going wherever the key takes us. I have to find twins. They need me, I know they do."

"Wait for Spike. I'll take care of her, Buffy," Angel said swiftly as he followed Shanny's slim form and the fog swallowed them up. "And William can always find me."

Buffy coughed and blinked as the black fog stung her eyes. She was so angry with Shanny. Why wouldn't the girl listen to her? She was the Slayer; ok, not so much these days but she still had a lifetime of skill and experience at her fingertips. Jeez, what she should have done was insist that they march off in the direction the key was pointing. As soon as she said that, Shanny would have insisted on doing the exact opposite and stayed where she was.

Suddenly she yelped as a cold had closed round the nape of her neck. "Spike!"

"Sweetheart."

"Where the hell have you been? Angel and Shanny have taken off somewhere, following the key. We reckon it's a compass and perhaps it's showing us where the twins are and..."

"Wait up, Slayer. Look."

"At what?"

He took her hand and pulled her forwards, blindly into the dark. She needed every ounce of trust she had in him to let herself follow and then, as they moved, she realised the fog was getting a little thinner. She could see Spike clearly now and, with a chill that settled throughout her body, realised what he was holding in his other hand.

"Spike - wait up. You've got - that's - oh my god, that's - "

"One of Joyce's shoes." The vampire's voice was hard and brittle with anxiety. "I know. But that isn't the worst thing, pet. Look down there."

She realised they'd reached a gentle slope and below them the fog writhed and twisted, great oily fingers slipping out of the sickening, glutinous mess, seeking, feeling, reaching and all the while a smell so vile that it burnt your lungs and throat when you breathed, hung in the air.

"What is it?" Buffy whispered, her hand tightening on his cold fingers.

"I've no idea, pet. But just down there, that's where I found Joyce's shoe. The twins have gone into that...that...hell, Buffy. And if we're going to find them, we've got to follow them."

tbc


End file.
